#i should call it something else before someone yells at me about saying broken but eeehhhh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soft-persephone · 3 months

Text

I Will Be Your End pt. 1

Vampire!Fontaine x Vampire!Black!Reader x Vampire!Abel Morales // John Boyega x Black!Reader x Oscar Isaac

Explicit // WC: 9.5k // warnings: blood, descriptions of corpses, mild body mutilation, death, violence, mild abuse, horror, smut // masterlist // Part 2 //

music: Good People / by Majid Jordan

AN: Biggest shoutout to @megamindsecretlair her Vampire Tyrone fics have required my brain chemistry and changed my life! She is the biggest inspiration behind this fic so if you even slightly enjoy this one, go check out theirs! It’s truly beautiful!

Apparently it’s too long to make into one fic, so I will wait until next week to post pt2

I hope you enjoy!!

Where the fuck she at?”

Fontaine threw a chair and Yo-yo ducked, it smattered into pieces upon impact. Not satisfied, he flipped the coffee table and attempted to kick a hole in the couch, but she stopped that shit quick.

“Taine, Nock it the fuck off! I know you mad and all, but we still live here, and we ain’t got nowhere else to go!”

His breaths were rabid and heavy. His eyes glowing hard.

“Where. The fuck. Is. She?” He huffed.

Yo-yo licked her lips.

“It’s bad, real bad. You need to get to her fast,” he opened his mouth, probably to ask her the same fucking question again, but she stopped him with a raised hand, daring him to say something, “I tracked her like you told me, but she’s smart.. real smart.”

“That ain’t nothing we don’t already know. Yo-—“

“—interrupt me one more time.”

He sighed, shaking his head before sitting.

Good, God… finally.

“So boom!” She smacked her fist unity the palm of her other hand. “She only stops to feed in small towns, usually a racist or someone who tried to put his hands on her or other woman, all untraceable to the cops n’ shit.”

His face goes blank. The attitude he once had gone. She cohdi feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He’s putting the pieces together.

“She’s in New York.” Her lips formed into a line, waiting for his response.

“How many body’s?”

“It’s more than 50.”

Fuck.

Tyrone knew she’d be pissed with him for the first few years, but not like this.

He didn’t think she’d actually run away from him.

He looked at the antique book he brought you.

What is was about, he didn’t have fucking clue. This was a book published before summaries on the back were a thing. It was so old it barely had a title.

You loved reading, like Yo-yo, and history and shit.

It was the perfect gift.

But now.. he might not even get the chance to give it to you.

“Call Slick.”

“Are you alright little one?” A voice from somewhere asked you.

It was so rich. He kept talking and talking.

You hummed.

He should talk more.

You could barely feel the blood covering your body. The fresh dark flood of it was dripping from your mouth. Falling down a similar path as the last stickier dried up drops.

You looked up and saw his glowing eyes.

They were golden, but not like the harsh metallic gold that matched Fintaine’s grills. They were an old gold like the moon. An old golden hued moon that connected every ancient moment to the present. Witnessing the tragedy that had befallen what used to be her life that had now become the eternal damnation she didn’t deserve…. That she didn’t ask for.

You might hate Fontaine and what he did to you, but you weren’t stupid.

Vampires don’t pop up out of nowhere and for no reason.

Fear clings to you, but you fight it back down your throat, swallowing it before licking your lips.

“I’m.. I'm sorry,” you started. Your voice sounded foreign to you. It was hoarse, croaky, and broken, “I don’t know all the rules to everything. I won’t make any trouble.” Your heart sank, “I just needed to rest for a moment. I can le—“

“Nonsense.” He doesn’t raise his voice or yell. It was just as rich and calm as the first time you heard it. You lick your lips once more. “What makes you think I want you to leave?”

His mouth wasn’t moving…

“Maybe I saw someone in distress and wanted to help.” He was smiling now. It was poised and polite.

If you didn’t know any better, right now felt like meeting a person on any other day. Like taking a stroll on a random day, in the daylight. Just like you used to.

You’d be walking towards campus for class only to bump into a handsome mysterious stranger, he’d be nice and help you up. Insisting he won’t leave until he knows you're alright. He takes you to lunch.

Leading you to no longer care how late you would be to class, just wishing the day won’t end, so your new found stranger wouldn’t leave you.

Were you in distress?

You won’t play the fool and deny it. But you didn’t like the sound of it either. You didn’t know this stranger. Only his voice in your head and his old eyes.

What do you do now?

Barely blinking, he was closer to you.

You registered the fact that you were sitting on the ground. Your legs curled up, bending at the knee and strown casually to your side. A body strown on the opposite side of you. Brutally mutilated beyond recognition, his chest split in the center, his flesh and guts spilling out like a wild animal taken down by a predator.

He kneeled behind you, holding your back to his chest with one hand as he caressed your cheek with the other.

“Did you do this?” He asked aloud, the breath of his voice falling softly on your forehead, tickling gently at your eyelashes.

His eyes were even prettier up close.

He was prettier than Fontaine.

You cursed whatever foreign power within you that led you to think of him, even now.

“No….” You answered, your voice still hoarse, “It was a werewolf.”

He pulled you tighter against him. Firmly, but gently holding your head to the side by a handful of your hair.

His mouth danced softly on the skin of your jaw to your neck. Worshiping the area with such devotion, it felt sinful. It felt wrong. It felt worse than the curse of being a monster forever.

His teeth sank into your flesh, filling you with as much bliss as he was taking, he wanted to be full of nothing but you. He wanted to consume you.

“Who do you belong to?” You heard his warm amber voice in your head.

“No one.” You silently answered back.

—

It’s been weeks, Slick.”

“I said I wasn’t no miracle worker,” Charles huffed. “I said, I’d see what I could do and as we seeing, it ain’t a whole lot.”

“Fontaine kicked his chair behind him as he stood up and Yo-yo stepped between him.

“Uh-uh, none of that! You remember what happened last time you killed a witch?” She hissed. “Your not putting me through that again, Nigga! I won’t let you!”

Fontaine smacked his teeth before turning around towards the window.

“You sure you can’t feel her?” He placed his hand under his shirt one more time before reaching out into the bond. He didn’t need to touch his chest in any way when reaching out to feel you in the bond that made you all a clan. It was more to calm himself down.

“Nothing.” Yo-yo sighed.

He had everyone in their clan reaching out in the bond daily to feel you, for someone to be able to either feel your emotions, dream about you, or see visions on where you were or what you might be doing.

And it was all failing.

Your connection was growing weaker to everyone everyday.

The only thing your bond was putting out was an insane amount of power. It could knock out weaker members into walls or send them flying if they touched it. For someone of your status, it shouldn’t be possible.

The only times vampires tell stories of fledglings growing insanely strong in a short amount of time was before they tried to overthrow clans from their masters, usurping the line before executing them in front of everyone.

What Fontaine did after he was turned…

“At least she stopped feeding everyday all the time.”

“But she’s been learning things.”

Fontaine’s eyebrows rose together in confusion.

“What you mean? How can you tell?”

“I don’t know.. I just can.” She shook her head with a heavy emotion everyone in the clan was starting to feel. “Something’s different about her. I felt this new person in the clan and I know you haven’t turned anyone since her.”

“She’s in the middle!” Slick slammed his hand on the table. “That’s why I say give me all the details! Every single time!” He shook his head. “ there wouldn’t been no need, to pull out my whole crystal ball and shit!”

“Will you quit whining!” Fontaine huffed, “and can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Yo-yo said she feels a new energy in the bond she can’t explain.” Slick fiddled with the hem of his sleeves, “that means she’s found someone else to pledge allegiance to.”

The air went cold.

Fontaine usually has a better grip on his influence and how it can affect the air around him, but when he was upset it came off fast and hard, filling up the room with fear and trepidation that only made it worse.

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Fontaine, calm down. No one’s saying she betrayed you. We’re just weighing all the possibilities th—“

“I said, no.”

The intonation of his voice changed to something dark and layered with a power that made Yo-yo and slick unwilling still and stop talking.

“She would never.” Fontaine punched the wall.

“She would never drink another vampire's blood.”

—

Abel, cupped water into his hands and poured it over your shoulders, letting it cascade down your chest and your back. The water was scalding, but his hands were warmer.

His hands were gliding over your skin as if he were attempting to create you himself, or he was worshiping the expanse of your skin. Comiting every curve, bump, stretch mark, and stray mole into his memory. Basking at the feel of you and cherishing each millisecond in fear he wouldn't get another chance.

“What.. happened to me?” You asked, “every moment before now feels like a hazy fever or dream I can barely remember.”

“Bloodlust.”

“Bloodlust? I went on some crazy murder spree?!”

“No,” he smiled at your shock and you somewhat relaxed. Still not liking what had become of view, “you drank quite a large amount of blood in a short amount of time, and instinctively once you're in that state your body will only crave more and more in want of being more powerful.”

“I don’t wish to be more powerful. I don’t wish to be anything.”

Abel frowned at you, but ignored your statement.

You were a little disappointed, but you understood.

You didn’t have any friends to confide in anymore, no one to share your experience of existence with. You had no connection with anything anymore, human or creature, nothing else made you feel like more of a monster than that.

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I suppose.”

“No,” he tsked at you, “how do you feel?” His eyes flashed down at you, and you felt his energy quickly fill the room washing over you in a cocoon of warmth, rivaling the bath water.

You sighed.

There’s nothing more you hated then actively practicing and learning about what you now were.

At least, that’s how it was with Fontaine.

You reached deep within yourself. At your spirit or aura.. perhaps something deep within your mind until you felt this new magical essence that now lived within you.

It was bigger, louder.. but it still bore no color.

“I think I’m stronger in some way, but I still don’t know what color I’m supposed to see.”

“You are,” he gently grasped at your sides and lifted you up out of the water, immediately ushering you into a towel, “much stronger that is.” He patted your skin dry , before grabbing a glass jar with oil in it.

“Smell.” He lifted it to your nose.

“Hmmm.” It was a warm boozy vanilla with a hint of something spicy. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

The silence was comforting as you let him cover you with the oil and knead it into your skin.

You can’t remember the last time you had felt so at ease.

He gave you a white sweater that had to be one of his and wrapped you in a blanket as you laid on your side next to him.

He kept his hands to himself and you hated it.

You longed to curl up closer into him and let him absentmindedly play with the locs of your hair. Much longer now that they’ve grown since you’ve died. With plenty of time spent avoiding Fontaine in isolation from him and his goonies, you learned to retwist them yourself.

“How were you turned?” He looked at you with such somber eyes. They were brown just as Fontaine’s but they were much much warmer. Soft things they were, almost wet.

Was she such a sad site? Did he pity her that much?

Was she something to be pitied?

“I’m not sure. I woke up like this one morning in a random bed away from my home and my family.”

His face scrunched together, not just in confusion but sadness.

“No,” he paused, searching for the right words.”Did you consent?”

“What?” You were offended.

Who would ask for this? Only a psychopath would ask for something like this.

“No!” You both winced at how harsh you sounded.

“I did.” He gazed into the distance, looking more somber.

“Why?” You hope you didn’t sound as in disbelief and rude as you felt.

“My… my wife was turned by some random vampire, and once she finally put the pieces together and figured out what happened to her and by whom, she told me, and I asked her to turn me.”

“Oh.”

“Once she did,” he glared at the wall, …

“I had a vision. A plan for our future. . . our family,” he quickly smiled before his face fell into something dark you couldn’t describe. “Generational wealth.” He turned to you with an indescribably smile. His teeth flashed, charmingly so, but his eyes were something else that did not match, “but this. I couldn’t even imagine anything like this getting in my way. Our way.”

“What happened to her?”

“She.. passed.” He lifted his hand to brush your cheek. “She wanted to, and I didn’t hold it against her. We’d been alive for so long.”

“Why didn’t you. . . pass with her?”

“You ask so many questions.”

Had you been alive you swore your face would have burned.

You averted your gaze and focused on his hand on your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s endearing,” he pulled you closer, nestling his head on top of yours. You now felt embarrassed for an entirely different reason. “It makes you seem so.. human.”

You sobbed.

“I didn’t ask for this. Any of it.”

“I know,” he placed his hand on the back of your head, suffocating you against his chest and you welcomed it. “I know.”

You will yourself to stop crying. You were done crying.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. When someone is turned it must be with consent. It’s a relationship built on trust. Without it, the bond between master and fledgling is painful for everyone involved

“I have no master!” You argued. “Fontaine.. doesn’t do that.”

“Then how does it work between him and everyone he’s turned.”

You sighed.

“I.. don’t really know. He and everyone in town was somehow turned by this old vampire and he compelled everyone to forget it and to be his slaves or test puppets or something,” you squeezed Abel’s back, holding him closer to you, burying your face drier into his chest, “Fontaine killed him even though he was begged not to, and somehow, they All lived and he was the new leader.”

Abel froze and you looked up at him.

“Is that bad?”

“N.. no.” He pursed his lips. “It’s just unheard of, impossible even.”

He pulled back from you for just a second, looking into your eyes. He moved his hand from your back to the temple of your forehead.

He was looking into your mind.

Fontaine used to try it all the time and you always forced him out somehow.

When he was done he held you even tighter than before. Staying silent.

You thought perhaps he was done talking and just wanted to spend time tucked against you, deciding to sleep and talk about the rest of it in the morning, but you felt his tears fall into your hairline.

You forgot just how horrific what happened to you was. You didn’t always hate him, but now you do. Not just him, but how you used to feel about him.

You’ll never forget that night, and you’ll never forgive him for what he did to you.

Another person, well, vampire, had experienced the story of how you came to die, and they wept just like you did.

You pushed your feelings deep down into the colorless energy within as you’ve always done, and you willed yourself to sleep, wishing for the chance to make Fontaine hurt as you now did.

“Uhoh, someone’s getting a little too turnt!”

“Leave me alone!” You laughed at your friend. “Finals are over, and I can now let loose!”

You might take school a little too seriously, but you came from a home where education was what saved your parents from poverty and they passed that same lesson on to you.

It might be strict to some, but as you grew older you only grew to believe it just as much as your parents.

You wouldn’t have anything if this school shit didn’t work.

You weren’t raised to hustle, you were raised to study, so that’s what you did.

But now it was time to party!

You didn’t always go out with your friends, so the nights you did, were always special. Your favorite food and drinks were always there when you were, and all your favorite people.

Usually you were really shy and reserved, but one or two drinks and the edge is off! You can let loose and maybe even dance. Who cares what anyone else thinks? You're having fun with the people you love and the people that love you!

You're making memories and forming your circle. You dreamed of the big fancy job you’d get one day to finally be able to take care of yourself and live in your own place!

“Uhhh.” Your friend called your name with a badly contained smile.

“Yeah?” You smiled back.

She smirked and then threw her arms around you with a laugh.

“Omg, what is it? Just spit it out already,” you laughed back.

“What would you say, if I told you there’s a guy here with a crush on you?” You blinked.

A crush? On you?

You believed you were pretty. You weren’t that insecure in yourself, people just tend to make it very clear that you aren’t their type.

But this was new!

Your stomach fluttered at the possibility.

“I don’t know!” You laughed again. “But whatever happens, happens!”

Your friend squeaked again and wrapped her arms around you once more.

She was so drunk. You smiled.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

You looked up to see cool dark skin, and a yellow gold smirk of a smile looking down at you.

“No, it’s okay.” You politely smiled back.

He was everything.

He liked that you listened. That you didn’t judge him off his looks.You like that he didn’t assume you were stuck up just because of how shy and introverted you could be.

Conversation was easy. Blissfully easy.

You both probably talked about anything and everything. The big personal life stuff to every miniscule thought and hobby.

He’d never seen Star Wars before.

You are a basic gym person at best.

Some music you both liked, some music he liked you never heard of and vice versa.

“How come you're not scared?”

“Scared of what?” You almost wanted to laugh but you held it in. You weren’t sure how he’d react if you did.

“Of me, or like,” he smacked his teeth, “you don’t act weird and stuff when I talk about what trips me up as a drug dealer or get that silent judgy look. People think that by not saying anything they're being polite, but they don’t know it shows on their face.”

“I don’t judge people based on their life or choices. Just by what’s on the inside. Not everyone has the same chances or choices. We’re all just trying to make it. No matter where we start in life, it’s all toward the same thing.” You stopped and pondered for a bit, searching for the right words. “It’s the government and shit they’ve gotten away with they have us all over the place. Until we can change the system or something like that. . . and yeah.” You ended dumbly.

“Yeah?” Fontaine was practically cackling at you. He laughed loudly. The sound coming from his belly, his low baritone sounds of joy flooded your senses. His yellow gold grillz shining in the low light of the room.

“Just, yeah.”

“Well excuse me for not being able to break down capitalism and its effects on the wealth gap and disparity in America and how it relates to race in one sentence. I've done it enough in school. Which is over now, and I'm tryna take a break from it all.”

You’d never felt so seen, so understood. You could see yourself in him, and he saw himself in you. You both had completely different lives, you had different ideas for almost everything except where it counts. Aside from the basic black experience and the trauma associated with that, or little quirks and social similarities they’ve grown fond of as a collective. There was something more.

A genuineness. A mirroring of the part of yourself that you couldn’t put into words. Tyrone was your person.

That’s why it was so easy to let him take you upstairs. To let his hands roam across the expense of your skin. His mouth was so warm. He lathes at your neck. Dragging his mouth down towards your chest. He sucks hard at your breast until your panting and writhing. He moves towards the next one, doing the same.

You can’t tell where your body ends or his mouth begins.

“You like that?” He looked down at you with half a pearly white smirk. When did he take his grills off? You didn’t know.

He was so calming. He crashed into you like a wave. When you first met on that couch you could feel him pulling you in towards him. The waters of his soul were cool and tranquil, and you’d happily float in the body of it all night. Now as things grew more intense as he mouthed at you, and you clutched at him just as desperately.

“Fontaine.” You moaned his name like a prayer.

He responded with a similar prayer of your name on his lips.

You were drowning in him. The wave of his entire being crashed against you, suffocating you as it flooded over and over your head until you were so far gone underneath the very waters of his essence, of him, you couldn’t breath.

“Who knew such a fat pussy could be so tight?” He lapped and lathed at your skin.

The slow growing ache within you was getting stronger and stronger. Your own desire was eating you alive, burning and festering within you. It was too much. Everything felt so good it hurt, so when he decided to bite down into your flesh, everything within you seized. Tightening in response, screaming for more.

“You like that,” he praised slowly into your neck, “i’an know you was like that.”

He pushed your legs up by your thighs. His hand sliding along your skin as if he was remolding you, reshaping you in his image before he destroys you with the very hands he pulled you out of the dirt with.

You whined, tears brimming in your eyes, but you couldn’t feel them. Fontain didn’t acknowledge them.

You wanted him to feel good. That’s all you wanted. You wanted to make him feel good so he didn’t leave you.

“—wanna be yours.” You mewled as he sucked harder at your neck once more until you made that sound again. He did it over and over again until you whined and panted for more, and he responded with another bite, much harder this time. His mouth staying on your skin much longer.

Waves and waves of pleasure flooded your senses. You arched your back to chase the feeling of his motuh, pressing yourself into him.

He released you with a wet slurp.

“You’on needa worry ‘bout that.” He pressed his dick against you, letting the head bump against your clit as he slid it along your folds. With each lazy movement your hips chased the feeling of his.

Fontaine responded by pulling his hips back, letting you feel every thick inch as he slowly pulled back until only the tip was inside of you before thrusting back into you. He set a slow enduring pace. Each heavy thrust of his hips caused a moan to fall from your lips.

He was branding you. With every thrust of his body into yours, with his hands on your body, with his mouth biting into your flesh. The sounds of his mouth on you matched the wet sounds of his slips slamming into yours.

He wasn’t just consuming you, burning you, he was molding you. Reshaping you not only into a new being but combining your souls. Molting them into one another, you didn’t know where he began and you ended, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed him. You wanted to live for him. Exist only for him.

So you chased every feeling of his body, matching each and every movement of his hips, arched your back further to get that much closer.

It was a night you never forgot. A night you couldn’t forget. Each moment of bliss was now remembered with a matching thought of pain. With every new height of pleasure you didn’t know was humanly possible was now replaced with the thought that every single peak you reached was one step away from your life, your family, and what you used to be at your very core.

A robbery of your humanity.

But you didn’t know that when you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours. Your phone nowhere to be found.

You were scared and alone.

But you remembered your night with Fontaine.

He took you away from everything, and you didn’t even get the chance to confront him about it while you threw up day and night. While you tossed and turned every waking moment with a headache that wouldn’t go away. While your stomach started to gnaw at your flesh from the inside out caving in on itself. You were hot and cold at the same time and always sweating. Everything started to blur and the sun hurt.

It didn’t help that the room was full of windows.

You had to resort to burying yourself in a hoard of blankets.

But when the moon rose high, you took your chance.

In your feeble weak state, you managed to travel around the foreign town you learned was called the Glenn. Hundred and thousands of miles away from your home.

You managed to find someone nice enough to talk to you.

“You a’right? You need to sit down? You wanta glass a’ water?”

“Please.” Your voice was horse and meak. You didn’t want to be so trusting of all these people you didn’t know, but they had to be better than Fontain or whoever the fuck he was.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

You looked at the date, it could not be right. A chill ran down your spine and filled your entire body.

It’s been 10 years.

You couldn’t have been asleep for ten years! Were you somehow drugged out of your mind? Is that how? What has that sick fuck been doing to your body while you’ve been out of conscience for ten fucking years.

Fear and bile rose in your body and you threw up.

“Aye what the fuck!” You didn’t see what happened next as black clouded the corners of your vision and the world went dark.

However, you were still there.

And in a bath of darkness you focused on your grief and your anger.

You don’t know what has happened to you, but you do know one thing. Fontaine was going to die by your hands, and that thought of comfort let you slip into your first slumber of peace.

Yoyo treaded lightly around the corner. She stood still not to draw attention to herself. She watched as the slick black ornate car pulled up to the side of the restaurant. She watched as a man with heavily styled black hair and tan skin stepped out and handed off his keys. Impeccably dressed with a heavy wool coat too match.

“Shoulda went for a black one. Would have been real fresh too.”

Yo-yo bit the inside of her cheek.

“I mean the taupe beige isn’t that bad of a look. It kinda grows on you the more you look at it. But if he really wanted to ste—“

“Nigga, don’t nobody give a damn about his fucking coat!” She hissed.

Why Fontaine made her bring Slick along, she would never know.

“Slick opened his mouth to say something smart, but Yo-yo quickly cut him off.

“Shut up! There she is!”

They watched as he opened the door to the other side.

You stepped out in a gorgeous silk red number that had a leg slit and a low back. You had a white fur shawl that covered your shoulders. Gold dripping around your neck, ears, and a few of your fingers. There had to be some diamonds sprinkled about somewhere. With that type of money, there had to.

Situation aside, Yo-yo and Slick both let out sounds of approval.

“Shit, if I could get all that, I’d leave Fontaine sorry ass too.” Yo-yo murmured.

“As a man with certain avenues and multitudes, I can not hate another player. If you got it, you got it.”

Slick snapped his fingers, the rings on his hands clacking annoyingly so, and their clothes changed.

“What the fuck am I wearing?”

“What are you complaining for? He smacked his teeth. That’s what you usually wear.”

Yo-yo would have appreciated the little yellow thing she wore anywhere else, but not now.

“You saw what they were wearing! This place is classy! It’s nice as shit and they are not about to let a couple of raggedy asses in looking like this.”

“You see that’s your problem!” He raised a finger and Yo-yo had to interrupt him.

“Nigga, I know you not putting a finger in my face!”

“Will you calm yo’ ass down! All I’m tryna say is,” he dusted off his clothes, letting a harsh breath through his nose, “Fontaine made me come with you for a reason. It don’t matter what we wear, I can get us in.”

“Mhmm, you better.”

“Abel.” You warily said his name.

He guided you through a crowd with a hand tentatively placed on your lower back. Plush and luxurious with low thundering music. People were everywhere. But if you really focused and stilled your mind a bit, you could tell who was a vampire, and there were many, and who was not.

Abel was about to answer you, but a young light skinned man had interrupted the steady pace Abel and you were making through the crowd.

“H-hi.” He said softly and sweetly before cupping your face with a hand. He had to be around your age if you were human, boyish features made it too hard to tell, even if he had a beard. Close shaven and shaped well to match his face. . His eyes were a large bright brown as he battered them shyly at you. He had full lips that looked so soft and his lashes were so long.

“Um, hi?” You blinked, not sure what to do. Too many people were crowded around in their own world to care about what was transpiring between you.

You moved his hand from your cheek, and he took it as a sign to move his face closer to yours. You stiled. Even the slightest of movements would have made your lips touch.

“Can you bite me?” His voice was a sultry pant, almost a whine.

Blood rushed through your senses. You noticed it now.

The smell of it in the room. The humans straying around from vampire to vampire.

Something on your face must have changed. Maybe your eyes flashed because his lips parted just a tad more and his eyes almost rolled back.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing his neck before you felt Abel’s hand slide from your back to your arm, roughly pulling you back.

“She’s on a diet.” He didn’t yell or raise his voice, but his tone was clear cut and dry with plenty of bite.

He raised your hand to reveal the glowing purple glow stick bracelet.

“Oh.” The stranger pouted his lips, causing a rush of something to burn deeply within you, “well,” he fiddled with his fingers, “when you're not on a diet can you come back? I’m here almost every night.”

You turned to Abel, not sure what was happening.

“She’ll think about it.” He patted him on the shoulder before placing his hand at your back once more and led you through the crowd.

Going up steps, he let his hand fall from you, but you couldn’t find it in you to step away from him.

“This is a nightclub for vampires?”

“And humans.” Abel said casually before stopping someone and ordering a few drinks.

“Wristbands are color coded.” He led you to a cornered booth before guiding you in and sliding after you.

“Red for feeding vampires, green for those willing to be bitten, yellow for humans who don’t, and purple for vampires who are on a diet.”

You looked at your purple wristband with a frown. A gnawing sensation swelling within you.

“But I—“

“— have had more than enough.” He sighed as he saw your face fall, “look. Bloodlust is a hard thing to come back from but enough time has passed where you aren’t jumping on any and everything with a pulse.”

You nodded at the reason in his words.

“Who are we here to meet anyway?”

Abel twisted the ring around his finger and crossed one of his legs over the other one.

“The vampire who helped me after me and my wife were turned.”

As the waiter placed down your drinks, a figure appeared out of nowhere. Eerily still and quiet as people bustled to and fro around him. His gaze fixed on you and Abel.

His hollow black eyes reflected the light and surrounding colors in a strange effect you could barely understand. His equally dark and plain clothing was just as off putting.

“He is ready for you.”

Abel took a quick swig of his drink and ushered you out of the booth.

He held you close to him as you both followed the strange man.

“Let me do the talking.” Abel whispered in your ear. “If he tells you to do something, just do it and don’t protest too much.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Abel rose an eyebrow at you as his mouth twisted into a tight thin line.

“Most importantly,” he whispered in your face as you both climbed the steps to an intricate door to a room that looked over everything, “follow my lead.” His eyes flashed in the familiar old gold you’ve grown comfortable gazing at, but in this moment it made your veins run cold.

“Abel,” a man who looked strangely familiar to him, stood up from behind his desk to dutifully shake Abel’s hand with a formal and polite smile, “it’s been so long. To what do I owe this rare pleasure of a visit from you. Everything is well at the office?”

“Yes, everything is fine, but I have a request to ask of you.”

At that moment, the man looked at you and his eyebrows rose into his hairline.

“I see.” He corrected himself with another polite smile and motioned towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Let’s discuss this in a more comfortable manner.”

He and Abel looked alike, but they couldn’t appear more different.

This man’s hair was much curlier, but does this mean Abel’s hair could be equally as curly?

He was turned much later in life. The evidence in the salt and pepper of his hair and the thick beard that suited his features.

Despite their few differences there was so much they had in common. In the formal attire they both seemed to respect and their equally formal mannerisms, but it was clear this man held some sense of superiority.

Not only in how he moved and acted, but how Abel, the most powerful vampire you had recently met, treaded carefully around this one.

It would have caught you by surprise if you weren’t feeling suffocated by a strange yet powerful aura.

It had to be coming from him.

“Forgive my rudeness, let me introduce myself. I am Duke Leto Atreides although not quite a Duke anymore. That was quite some time ago.”

You cleared your throat and told him your name, introducing yourself just as politely.

“It’s no trouble at all.”

Leto looked at you a moment too long with an odd look, like you had shocked him somehow, before his face fell back into its usual demeanor.

You looked at Abel to see if you had done anything wrong, but he gave you a small nod to reassure you that you had not. However, his face seemed to hold a look of concern or wary at how the Duke was looking at you.

“What is it you came to ask for?” He cleared his throat before turning his attention back towards Abel.

“Well, it’s not so much a favor for me, but for her.” Abel crossed one leg over the other and corgilly clasped his hands together in his lap.

“She’s a fledgling.” He paused, licking his lips and dipping his head down momentarily. His eyes briefly glowed before he slightly shook his head, “she was unwillingly turned.”

The Duke’s head snapped towards you with a frown. His expression of formal politeness was no more. It was quickly succeeded by a cordial disdain, regarded with frown, on your behalf.

“Impossible.” He placed his chin in the knuckles of his hand. “Who would do such a thing? The event of someone unwillingly turned surviving is rare.”

“What!”

You violently twisted in your chair to face Abel and he stilled you with a hard look and an arm across your body to keep you from speaking and moving more.

“That is exactly my understanding as well, but she is alive and well and recently recovering from a bout of bloodlust.”

Leto stood up with a look of thought, and Abel followed suit.

You rise with a glare, your eyes looking between them both. You tried to keep your composure, but you were failing on every level. You could feel your anger coursing through your veins. Whatever magic that had your heart thumping surged throughout your body. Your heart beating faster and faster until you couldn’t feel it in your chest. It was racing at such a speed you couldn’t hear and your vision started to blur.

Leto had two hands on the side of your face, looking into your eyes as you stood frozen in your rage. When did he start talking to you? When did he put his hands on you?

“W—“

“— calm down.” His eyes glowed into yours. An iridescent gray blue. Almost a dark indigo of sorts.

It made you think of the rain. A thunderstorm and how before its clouds burst, the lightning cracks. Seconds after, it’s followed by thunder pounding. How once it ends, there’s an eerily still that falls on everything. The dark clouds recede and a bright and sunny day materializes in a bath of melancholy of not knowing what had just happened and why.

It didn’t calm you down, but it slowed your heart in your chest, something within you was still seething at him.

He didn’t weep for you as Abel did.

His thumb softly brushed at your cheek as he studied your face. A calmness bloomed across his face. His polite superiority is gone, revealing just a man— a vampire.

He looked like he found something he once longed for. Whatever it was, he now found in you.

You looked over to Abel. His expression is neutral,, revealing nothing to you.

“Um, Duke…sir?” You cleared your throat.

He practically leapt back. Except it happened before you could blink and he kept his hands awkwardly in front of him.

“Ah, yes.” He dusted off himself and brushed his clothes. “Forgive me. I got carried away.”

He looked at you once more, but now as if he knew you.

“Is there anything you could do to help her?” Abel's voice was strained with a cordial air, clipped with an agitation.

You reached out to him. Brushing your hands through his hair to rest momentarily on his cheek.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. His brow furrowing and his mouth twisting to one side before he slightly moved away from your hand.

His face was back to normal, but a nagging feeling within you told him he wasn’t. It made you ache with a need to dissuade whatever it is. You wanted to repay him for all the moments he’s calmed you down and made you feel warm these last few days.

Being with Abel made you realize just how much distress Fontaine had you under. How rage got you out of bed in the morning and hatred got you through the day.

Being with Abel made you realize just how exhausting it was.

You were still learning how to exist in a calm state. How to let go of your thoughts and anger and take things one at a time.

“I can help break her tie.”

You shared a look with Abel. Your eyebrows rose into your hairline and your mouth agape. Leto’s words seemed to put Abel at ease. He unbuttoned one of the buttons of his suit jacket and held a fraction of a smile before he turned to face him.

“It will be very painful, but I—“

He paused. His ears tinging red as he cleared his throat and averted eye contact from you.

“May I,” he licked his lips, “may I have a taste of your blood?”

You looked into his eyes. It was a mistake.

They glowed with a dark unrelenting gaze. His bashfulness was no more, either way, heat rushed throughout all your senses. Your eyes fluttered as you looked anywhere but him.

“Yes.” You quickly stuttered out. “It’s—

“Are you sure?” He interrupted you and moved his head into your line of sight. Suddenly, filling up your personal space.

You blinked repeatedly and stared dumbly in response.

No one had ever asked.

You nodded silently and he only raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yes.” You said softly but with more determination than before.

With careful hands he moved your head to the side.

Burning, his mouth was burning you.

His mouth felt like hot coals being placed on your neck. He cradles your head towards his chest as if he had done it a million times. His mouth moves along your skin with the fury of a thunderstorm, swollen with the humidity of the summer air. Unrelenting and smothering, he finally bit down, something within you breaking. The evidence of its lightning touch was the thundering of your heart in your chest.

You don’t know what to do with your hands. You run them along his chest, his back. You push and pull at the fabric of his shirt, of him. All you could smell was him.

He was all you could feel.

Slowly raising his mouth from your skin, you both pant with heaving chests as you watch the small trail of blood that connects from his mouth to your skin.

Without missing a beat, he laps at the small holes left on your skin. You can’t help the moan that spills out of you, and he closes his eyes.

You slide your hands from his back into his hair.

Desperate to pull him in once more.

When he opens them, neither of you say a word. The glowing storm clouds of his eyes transform into something so dark it’s a wonder they still glow at all.

Without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along his lips to taste more of your blood. Your eyes dart across his face, desperate to catch each movement.

He moved closer to you, mouthing along your neck and sniffed deeply at your skin, pushing his nose firmer against you. He breathed out of his mouth. The warmth of his breath searing into your pores.

You couldn’t take it.

“One more,” he panted into your neck. “Just one more.”

“Please.” You practically pant back into his mouth.

You aren’t aware of much of anything at this point. You're lost in tides of air and whirring winds and you aren’t sure you want it to end.

As he pulls up to you once more, you surge towards him in unison, unaware of just how much strength you were using.

He makes a small oomf sound as you thud into his chest. He puts his hands at your hips and holds you tentatively.

Your mouth clamps onto his neck with just as much fervor. You felt more desperate than he did. You felt like you weren’t as sensual. That you sucked and slurped at his skin like some rabid creature, but the sounds coming from you told you just how wrong you were.

His pants were growing short, sharper, almost transitioning into a low keening wine.

“Fuck.” He whimpered into your ear before pulling you off of him by your hair. An action you would have taken into offense if it was anyone else, but right now after what you both had done, you don’t know what the lines of inappropriate and appropriate were anymore.

“And here I thought I was the only woman for you.”

You both took a step away from each other. Leto straightened his posture and clasped his hands formally behind his back.

You stood wide eyed.

She had your face. Only a bit older in comparison, but you knew your own face when you saw it.

“I think it is past due time for Abel to have another lover.” A man had interrupted. And not just any man, but a man who was the spitting image of Fontaine, save for the African accent and no beard. His hair was much tamer in style, and he had an equal air of superiority that Leto carried, and he seems like the type to not play about it.

He was better than everyone, and he wanted anyone who crossed his path to know it. He barely made eye contact with anyone else in the room. The only reason he seemed interested in your existence was because of how you and Leto seemed lost in one another moments before.

“Forgive me, my love.” Leto cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with you as well. His ears tinging pink before he continued. “I assure you I have not taken up a lover of any kind.”

“No?'' She stepped closer to Leto and ran a hand through his hair.

His shoulders fell into a more casual posture, and his expression softened.

“She’s a fledgling.”

“I think it's time we made our leave.”

You turned towards Abel.

His voice did not reveal his feelings, but from the look in his eyes and the slight frown on his face, it was clear how he felt. A storm of guilt brewed in the pit of your stomach. You had only been with him for a short period of time, but you couldn't help the feeling that you committed some type of betrayal. However, not out of some loyalty, that he was some sort of only being you could be tied to, or that he was some sort of lover, but you felt some type of way about having that moment in front of him.

You still would have done it. You dont regret it in the slightest, but he shoulnd’t have been here to see it.

You sighed. Not caring to hide the agitation in your voice.

“I would love for someone to explain to me what that means instead of acting like I don't exist.”

Everyone turned to look atr Abel for some reason, and that irritated you even further. The rage boiled over within you. You could no longer see who or what was in the room, only what you were feeling.

“I know, through the magic, it feels like she's been a vampire for ten years, but if you’ve heard her story, it's only been for a short amount of time .” Abel said through his teeth.

“Well. . .” the woman who looked like you started. She eyed you up and down hungrily, “If she currently doesn’t belong to anyone. . “

“No.” Abel grabbed your arm and moved you behind him.

“I only made an agreement with him, and I don't have any allegiance to you whatsoever.”

“I understand her position of not being taught the proper edicate for how things work amongst us, but for you Abel there is no excuse!” Leto raised his voice. His eyes a startling eerie glow of a stormy blue-grey.

A wave of energy would have knocked you off your feet if you didn't grab Abel’s arm in time. He was much stronger than you were, so he didn’t seem to be affected by whatever invisible wave was swirling around in the room. He uncharacteristically glared at Leto. His apparent disrespectful attitude unwavering.

The man who had the same face of Fontaine looked you and Abel down with a pathetic disdain.

‘Where is the other one?” He asked as if he was offended that a copy of himself existed.

“What other one?” Abel spat. His eyes closing and his shoulders scrunching up as he waved his arms.

“What the fuck,” he yelled, his fangs bared and his eys glowing a dazzingly dangerous yet beatiful yellow, “is going on? What aren't you telling me?”

“Abel did you not tell them?” the woman with your face smacked her teeth and looked back at Abel with a glare.

“I was getting to it.” He looked much more sympathetic.

“It looked much more like you were about to put your tongue down another woman’s throat if you ask me.”

“Enough!’ she turned back to give the man a look. “Does it look like I care? If you can’t stand to be in the same room as Leto so badly, then you go find Jay!”

He smacked his teeth with a frown, and then suddenly looked over to you.

The sound and look on his face at that moment made him look so much like Fontaine. Anger rushed through your senses once more.

“Wipe that look off your face.’ He scoffed at you before making his way out the door, “I promise you, I hold no resemblance to whoever this other vampire may be.”

He spared one more look at Abel. This time with much less disgust.

“Follow me.”

Abel looked towards you instead.

“Go.” Leto commanded and Abel glared at him.

Silently, he followed. Not bothering to hide his frown.

You eyed him trepidly.

What was all this about?

Yo-yo didn’t like the sight of this.

A woman who looked just like you but at least ten years older walked in. Behind her, a man that looked just like Fontaine.

He kept his hair in a sizable fro on his head with a proper edge up that was faded at the temples. A smaller amount of facial hair that was way better groomed than Fontaine would ever attempt.

He was just as fancily clad as the other two men that looked alike.

“This is bad. She’s drunk that other vampire’s blood.” Slick whispered into her ear.

“Shut the fuck up before someone hears us in here!” She whisper-shouted at him.

They had snuck in, but whatever glamor Slick had placed on them had only lasted so long.

Yo-yo chewed on her lip as she watched you all sit down on a large couch. This vampire was just as strong as the one called Leto. Not only that, but she also had your face.

That meant big things. Things they couldn’t change.

A prophecy or some shit.

“Is that why you kept looking at me so strangly?” Yo-yo watched you ask. “Because you know. . .her?”

“He’s only ever met me like this.”

You nodded. Not really looking at either of them, making the woman frown in sympathy.

“My name is Shante.”

“Why do you all have our faces?”

Shante shared a look with Abel.

“Straight to the point I see.” She smiled. “I was the same way when it was my first time. I know it must have been hard and confusing.”

“Hard and confusing is an understatement.” You huffed bitterly.

She let out a short sigh, more out of nerves and not frustration.

You looked up at her oddly.

Yo-yo could only wonder why.

“I won’t hold you long or beat around the bush.”

“I think that’s best.” Abel clasped her hand in his.

“If you want to get technical, we are the originators of these faces and you all are our dopplegangers.”

You nodded, wringing your hands in your lap. “I think I know what those are.”

“You're always going to have a Leto and a Ghezo.”

Shante leveled at you with a serious tone.

This made you leap up with a hiss, baring your fangs.

“I don’t need Fontaine!”

“But you do.” Shante stood up and hissed back at you. “Without him you will never know peace. If you kill him, you might as well kill yourself too!”

“Good!” You screamed! Your voice sends a shock of power throughout the room making everyone still, even Yo-yo and Slick.

“What?” You broke the silence. “What’s so surprising about that after everything I’ve been through?”

“Forgive me,” Shante abruptly sat. “I didn’t know things were that bad between you.”

You sat with a self assured huff. Appearing more calm now that no one was about to tell you to get over your emotions.

“What makes you so sure, I need him?” You swallowed, looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone. “What makes you think I could get over it?”

But everyone knew what you were really asking.

“I once was mad just as you were.” Shante said softly.

You looked at her with watery eyes.

“I was turned just like you.” Shante looked at her and Leto’s hands clasped together in her lap. “Ghezo had made a deal with someone. They promised him an eternity of power. . . But they also warned him about the cost. The people he would lose and now he’d never get close to anyone.”

She drew in a shaky breath and you cooled closer to her. She smiled softly. A tear falling down her cheek. Leto wiped at it with his thumb.

“He talked with all of us, his wives. Some said yes without thinking, but I said no.” She looked up at you, with a stream of tears falling down her face.

Yo-yo wiped a tear of her own as she watched you both cry. Slick put a hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t brush it away.

“I was in love with being human and the idea of cheating death didn’t sit right with me. Long story short, I woke up like this, against my will.”

“What did you do?” You whispered.

“I left him. I left my home. . . And then I found Leto.”

“So. . . You stayed with him and for some reason just forgave Ghezo?”

“I wish I could tell you more, but you and Abel have to find your own way. . . And Fontaine.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Yo-yo couldn’t hear anymore.

“I think we got what we came for.”

Slick didn’t say anything. Nodding, he snapped his fingers, and they were both gone.

63 notes · View notes

underground-secret · 6 months

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #john winchester #slow burn #dean winchester x witch reader #the hunter and the witch update #witch reader #the hunter and the witch #angst #light angst #celtic #supernaturalwiki #supernatural faith

67 notes · View notes

pablitogavii · 1 year

Note

Hey! Can I please request a gavi x fem! childhoodbestfriend!reader where she gets cheated on, and has locked herself in her bathroom, crying and broken as she thinks its all her fault. Her fem!bestfriend who was with her at the bar when she saw her bf cheat calls gavi because she knows she will listen to him? The girl bsf leaves them two, and its just cute door to door fluff of him trying to get her to open the door? She eventually comes out and he wipes her tears, compliments and reassures her it wasnt her fault, and helps her freshen up? He has loved her for a while but just hasnt done anything about it. He doesnt tell her that he loves her but his heart breaks for her. Thank you!

What you deserve

"Hola? Who is this?" Pablo asked groggily haven been woken up by your friend who quickly introduced herself and told him about what happened.

"She locked herself in the bathroom and doesn't want to come put..I don't know what to do and I know you're her closest friend.." she explained not having to say anymore since Pablo was already on his feet getting ready.

When you saw the message and the picture of your boyfriend kissing some random blond at the bar, your whole world fell into pieces. Your friend was at the same place and took the picture as proof and saying that he said you were way "too innocent" and "boring" to that girl before taking her to the room above.

"HIjo de puta! How did I trust him!? " you talked to yourself while tears were flooding your face when suddenly loud knocks snapped you back into reality.

"Preciosa? It's Pablo..please, open the door for me?" his voice was quiet and gentle and suddenly you felt even worse knowing that you have loved him for so long and now he sees you like this. You never thoughts you had a chance with him, especially with the newly acquired fame, and that's why you settled for another man. What a mistake!

"No.." you whisper back really not wanting him to see you like this. You mascara was all over your face and your hair was splattered everywhere.

"Just open amiga!" her voice was heard and you got annoyed that she was even there. You didn't care if Pablo was here (you wanted him here) but you already told her to leave several times!

"Just leave me alone!" you yelled this time hearing Pablo asking her to leave calmly and then doors closed signaling that she was no longer there.

"She's gone preciosa..it's just us. Wanna tell me everything?" he said sitting against the door so that your backs were on either side.

"He cheated Pabs..he cheated on me" you finally say it feeling even worse when those words left your lips. Suddenly, it all became real.

"I know preciosa..but he is an idiot who lost something special..something someone else desires so badly and can't have it" Pablo spoke while you cried thinking all of this is your fault. Maybe you were too innocent, maybe you should have slept with him?

"It's my fault.." you say and that broke Pablo's heart to hear.

"No it's not! You are a perfect girlfriend..all every guy is looking for but not every guy deserves.." he spoke but none of those words were getting to you in that moment. You felt so betrayed and alone.

"I should have listened to you.." you add remembering the way Pablo reacted when you told him about your relationship. You two even had an argument because he wouldn't approve and always said that guy was a sleaze bag.

"Ah preciosa..I didn't say it because I knew..I said it because I was selfish" and those words made you think wondering what he meant.

"W..what?" you were sniffling hearing Pablo sigh

"I didn't want you with him because I was jealous..I didn't want to share you" he admitted and your cheeks blushed wondering if he meant it like he wanted you for himself as more than just a friend?

"Um..Pablo?" you say

"Yes, preciosa?" he answered

"Um..you can come in..if you want?" you say unlocking the door and moving a little and he quickly opened sitting besides you and immediately placing his arm behind your shoulder and pulling you closer.

"Oof you look a bit rough preciosa" he chuckled and you blushed nodding your head and looking down in embarrassment but he was quick to bring a wet towel and start cleaning mascara from your face.

"That's better! You were a real cute raccoon, you know?" he said smiling and that made me smile at least a little bit.

"How about we get off that cold floor and go to the couch instead huh? I can make that special coco you like so much??" he offers and you take his hand standing up and feeling a bit dizzy but he was right there to hold you and help you to the couch.

When he placed a blanket on top of you and got you the coco, you already felt ten times better. You were still wondering what he meant previously tho..you just had to ask him about it now!

"P..Pabs?" you say and he turns towards you taking the cup and putting it on the table.

"Yes, preciosa? You need something else?" he says and you give him a kind smile shaking your head.

"Um..what did you mean when you said you didn't want to share me?" you ask with red cheeks noticing that he took his time before answering.

"It's..not the night to talk about it" he says but seeing his eyes in that moment you knew you both felt the same..you felt excited now.

"Please! Tell me so I don't have to think about what happened tonight??? P..pleaseeee!" you gave him your best puppy look and he sighed about to talk when loud knocks on your front door interrupted you both. It was almost midnight..there was only one person who would come now. Shit!

"He's here.." you say flinching a little but Pablo was already on his feet ordering you to sit there and let him handle it.

"Amor please open up! She didn't mean anything to me! You're everything I want!" his pleas were echoing the hallway and you knew those were all empty words and lies.

Pablo opened the door clearly agitated the moment he got face to face with you now ex boyfriend.

"Get the fuck out of here ímbecil!" Pablo's words were sharp and that mixed with your ex being drunk led to punches being thrown and you begging them to stop.

Suddenly, you were holding onto Pablo's waist pulling him back and crying into his shirt.

"Please Pablo..please for me! I'm done with him!" you said and that made him finally calm down and throw you ex out before locking the door.

"Díos mio! You're bleeding! Your eye!" you quickly rushed him to sit down and grabbed the first aid kit while he caught his breath finally calming down completely.

"I'm fine preciosa..how are you?" he said while you tried cleaning his wound before it gets infected but he kept moving around wincing in pain.

"You're not fine! You're bleeding! Let me help you, damn it!" you were straddling his lap now without even realizing it and that made him freeze in place fighting an urge to groan.

"There, that's much better! We'll change the bandage later..." you say looking at his face wondering why was he quiet all of the sudden.

"Um..preciosa?" his voice sounded different too like it was suddenly lower and you wondered what was wrong. You waited for him to speak.

"Ugh..if you're done..could you..um..get off my lap?" he said and then you realized where you were your bum moving against him and quickly getting off with a completely red face.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry Pabs! Um..I was just trying to help and I didn't realize.." you were mumbling but he interrupted you quickly.

"It's alright preciosa. Thank you for helping me..I just didn't want to react inappropriately "he says looking down at his lap and you realized what he meant. You remembered now the conversation that was interrupted by your ex.

"You were jealous when I got a boyfriend..you don't want to share me..and you get turned on when I sit on your lap? Pabs..I want you to be honest with me now" you say moving closer and his jaw clenches while he looked into your eyes.

"Maybe tonight is the bad time.." he said but you were done waiting and constantly pondering with the same question in your head.

"Do you love me Pablo?" you say straight up feeling nervous but knowing that you deserved to know the answer.

"I love you mi amor! I loved you for so long..and I always knew that you were meant to be mine..I just never did anything" he said and you smiled feeling your heart exploding when you heard his say it finally.

"Why not?" you moved even closer desperately wanting to be near him again and he welcomed it.

"Because I didn't think that I deserved you...but now I know that I am the only man that deserves you..the only one capable of loving you right..and making you happy..you're mine preciosa" his hand held your face and suddenly your lips were touching exploding in passion and longing.

It never felt like this with your ex..or with anybody else..kissing Pablo felt like peace..like you finally found the right person. You were sitting there kissing for few minutes until an idea popped into your head and you pulled away.

"N..no..more besitos!" Pablo said and you chuckled nodding your head but still not giving in.

"So..um..can I get back on your lap now cariño??" you smirk and he does as well grabbing your thighs and pulling them on top of him before your lips met again.

"I love you amorcito.." Pablo whispered into the kisses and your hands caressed his hair while you were kissing him back.

"I love you too Pabs..' you said realizing that for the new story to start the old one has to end <333

#pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #gavira #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #pablogavixreadersmut #pablogavixreaderfluff

249 notes · View notes

chockfullofsecrets · 1 year

Text

Spiderverse: Smile Log

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: “Okay, we got the time your baby kicked you in the face and you thought you’d broken your nose. Nice, classic slapstick.” “Lyla-” “And then that time an anomaly accidentally tickled him-” “Lyla, no-”

Peter B. asks an unexpected question and gets some information he really shouldn't have.

Wordcount: 1478

Oh, Miguel is fully aware of what the other Spiders think of him. Feral this, stick in the mud cabrón that - but for putting up with extended exposure to the Earth-616 version of Spider-Man for the six months that his little experimental society has existed? They should be calling him a shocking saint.

The Peter in question continues to hang off his shoulder, where he’s been since he swanned into the monitoring room ten whole minutes ago without an invitation. “-stay with me on this, I’m building to a point here - hello? Earth to Miguel?”

“What,” he snaps.

Peter pouts, an expression that he honestly didn’t think grown men were capable of until meeting this guy. “Did you hear anything I said?”

Easy. “No.”

And anyone who was, you know, sane, might take that as the insult he means it to be, but Peter just laughs and jostles his shoulder companionably. “You really are a grump sometimes, you know that? You gotta lighten up, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack one of these days.”

“Tell me about it,” Lyla says from his other shoulder. She likes Peter, talks to him directly more than any of the other Spiders, and she’s programmed to gather information that she thinks he wants, which means - yeah, he’s going to go ahead and ignore the implications of that one.

Peter makes a thoughtful noise. Concerning. “Hey, Lyla, you’re around this guy twenty-four-seven, right - does he ever relax? When’s the last time he, I don’t know, smiled?”

Miguel expects a snarky reply, not Lyla’s glasses flashing opaque the way they do when she’s looking something up. “Hm, let me check. Pulling up a smile log…”

He’s focused on the latest multiverse model, like everyone else should be, so it takes him just a bit too long to realize that they’re ganging up on him. “Wait. Lyla, belay that-”

“Okay, we got the time your baby kicked you in the face and you thought you’d broken your nose. Nice, classic slapstick.”

“Lyla-”

“And then that time an anomaly accidentally tickled him-”

“Lyla, no-”

“And - aw, this one’s cute! - after a mission he helped a girl get her runaway balloon and she hugged him-”

“Lyla!” he snaps, slamming a fist onto his desk, and she finally stops. “Por dios, would you quit that? Why do you even remember that stuff, it’s a waste of storage space!”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “My data, my business.”

“Yeah, yeah, can’t you just run the scans like I asked you to and stop causing trouble?”

They keep bickering over the new extrapolation methods, and Peter -

Okay, look. Miguel doesn’t have a “spider sense” or whatever seems to warn the rest of the Spiders before anything happens, so he has to rely on his own judgment. And with Peter being around all the time, Miguel’s learned to more or less tune him out, figures it’s the only way he’s ever going to get any work done.

Which is more or less why he doesn’t notice that Peter’s still there until someone’s hands shove their way under Miguel’s arms and start tickling, because that’s when his brain decides to turn on the instant reactions. “Jammit - hAh-”

He clamps his arms down automatically, reeling backwards into Peter’s chest just in time for the attack to stop. “Wait - did you just laugh?” Peter demands. “Shit, I didn’t think that was actually going to work, do it again!”

Peter’s fingers start wriggling back into hypersensitive flesh, trapped in his armpits, and Miguel barely manages to keep his mouth shut as more embarrassing sounds start knocking loose inside his chest. Get away, he yells to himself, hit him, move, just fucking move - he can’t remember the last time his reflexes have been anything but overprotective, but right now every fiber of his body insists he has to stay exactly where his is because granting Peter’s hands even a millimetre more of freedom is going to be the death of him.

He refuses to think about the way his mouth is spasming at the corners entirely without his permission even as the rest of him locks in place. Lyla can record that one, if she wants. See if he cares, it doesn’t count. This is fine. All he has to do is stand here until Peter gets bored - the way he acts, the other man might not even know what an attention span is.

Peter sighs, proving his point. “I’m not asking for much, just one laugh,” he laments dramatically, though Miguel can hear the stupid big grin he gets in his voice. “Do I need to be more annoying? I can be more annoying.”

Miguel sincerely doubts it - at least, until Peter flips one hand around from where it’s pressed up against the top of his ribcage, locks onto his elbow, and starts trying to lever his right arm away from his body. “Geez, would you lay off with the triceps? I’m gonna give myself carpal tunnel over here.”

If Peter would just stop tickling for one shocking second, he’d tell him that he sincerely hopes his stupid fingers break off and die. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself in a motion that’s definitely defiant and not at all panicked, getting as far as opening his mouth before the part of his brain that’s being lit up by every twitch of sensation decides to take over. “Nngh - no, nohoho, mierda!”

His entire face burns red as strangled snorts of laughter keep leaking out of him, has to fold over and brace one of his hands against his jaw to regain any kind of dignity - not that it helps, with Peter changing his hold to adapt to even that small bit of movement and using it to finally pry his arm up.

It’s really, really not fair that the most irritating Spider-Man is one of the most competent ones too. Miguel’s pretty sure luck hates Spiders in general, but it seems to love messing with him in particular.

“You know,” Peter starts conversationally, like he’s not wrapped around Miguel and taking half his weight because he’s shaking too hard to do it himself. “I think this is gonna be a good experience for us. Like, ah, coworker bonding. What’d you say we do this every week until you figure out how to loosen up like a normal person?”

Miguel’s going to kick his ass. He’s going to take his watch and ban him from Nueva York in perpetuity, as soon as he can stand up again. Earth-616 has other superheroes, they’ll survive their Spider-Man losing an arm or two.

Peter dodges the frantic headbutts and kicks he attempts and laughs, light and easy - it makes Miguel feel even stupider, twisted up on himself in desperation to avoid just that. “Hey, if it doesn’t work with your schedule you could just say so! I’ll pencil you in for biweekly, then.”

Idiota. Culero. Miguel doesn’t know if he’s cursing himself or Peter out anymore. He’s properly trapped now, sandwiched up against his own desk with one of Peter’s hands keeping his arm pinned and the other wiggling threateningly over a defenseless armpit. “Well? You gonna say something, or do I have to go full supervillain? I do a great Doc Ock impression, let me tell you.”

Miguel painstakingly loosens his death grip on his own jaw and opens his mouth just enough to wheeze out a heartfelt declaration of his undying hatred. Coughs before he can start, his throat raw from attempting to keep his laughter contained. There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns his head to find Peter looking down at him with something between amusement and genuine concern.

Fine. Fine. “Can you just. Stop. Before I pass out?”

Peter laughs again, landing firmly in amusement and on Miguel’s list of dimensional threats. “Yeah. Yeah, fine, I’ll let you off easy this time.” He lets go, hovering for a moment and then swooping back in to pull Miguel upright when he can’t quite manage it himself. “Okay, super ticklish and super repressed. I can work with that.”

“Don’t,” Miguel growls, leaning on Peter’s shoulder entirely against his own will as he starts to walk both of them out of the office. Where are they even going? The cafeteria? It’s only been-

Oh. He hasn’t eaten in twelve hours. No wonder Lyla had decided to mess with him. But Peter wouldn’t have known that.

“Nope, too late, I’m invested now. Wasn’t kidding about the biweekly thing, by the way.”

Lyla perks up from behind a screen. “I’ll put it on his calendar.”

“Oye, I’m locking you both out of the monitor room.”

The two of them start talking over his head, planning some kind of break in. Miguel turns his head away so Lyla won’t see him smile.

#tickling #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #chocfic

222 notes · View notes

faerievampling · 4 months

Text

Killing Time

Chapter 17: Rogue

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Tav (female reader)

word count: 5.5k

Summary: After their fight, Tav and Astarion spend some time apart.

warnings: 18+. Mention of SA. Graphic Violence. PiV. Vaginal Fingering.

Link to Ao3 | Killing Time Masterlist

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy the flashback scene here from Act 3 😆 I enjoyed writing them in game and fleshing them out a bit more. Next update will be within a week <3

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

It’s about a little after midday, and you’re fucking bored of being in the library. You’d been napping somewhat peacefully after getting out some of those pesky emotions, but now you find yourself without wine, blood, proper clothing, or servants at your disposal. Since you aren’t connected to Astarion anymore, how are you supposed to call on them? You find yourself antsy, your fingers twitching as you desperately need movement – you need to do something, lest you wallow away in your grief for eternity.

You feel like striking something or someone as you exit the library – your nails are digging into your palm. You tentatively make your way through your palace, slowly walking through the corridors and hallways to soak it all in. Your home is colorful, decadent, tasteful, albeit eccentric; you and Astarion have many decorations collected from all over the realms, and countless portraits and paintings of your little family. Your palace isn’t as sprawling as some: more compacted to fit a man, his wife, and a few servants and spawn. This makes you wonder where exactly Astarion is keeping all of your new…children. Below. They must be below.

As the admittedly petty (and very pretty) lady of the house, you think you should meet them. Before that, you need a wardrobe change. Truthfully, you huff and stomp to the servant's quarters, meaning to demand Bethild’s presence in accompanying you to your chambers. The servants’ quarters are reasonable, spacious, and clean, if a bit dull – only a few servants lived on the ground, Bethild unfortunately not being one of them. She had chosen her young child over serving you, which made you scoff when Astarion told you.

‘It’s an honor for that young lady to even touch me, Astarion!’ You yelled at him through the expanse of your shared minds.

“Of course! I know that, my treasure, but what else am I to do? She’s the one we want, isn’t she?” Astarion was always trying to reason with you. He always tries to fix all he can and you know this – but nonetheless, it makes you feel angry when he can’t. Even then, even when he couldn’t make your favorite (you wouldn’t ever admit this to her, of course) servant live on the grounds with you, to be at your disposal always, it made you irate. Astarion can always give you what you want, why is he acting like he can’t do it now?

‘Compel her.’

Astarion paused for a beat. ‘Is that truly what you desire?’

Astarion talked you out of it. He would have done it upon your insistence, probably, but you ultimately trusted his opinion on the matter – and Bethild does annoy you. You start to think maybe you should ask Astarion what he thinks the two of you should do, to fix this brokenness in your relationship, but you guess you already know his answer; upon returning home after finding that stupid sword for Angel and defeating the beholder with your bare claws, Astarion’s first choice was to seduce you, to coax to bed so he could have your body, as if you were some…conquest. Maybe he thought it would help you; hells, Angel suggested the same thing.

Angel. You can’t think about him for too long. It feels wrong because he’s stirring something inside you, and when you think of it, it makes you want to…run. It’s almost as if you, the ultimate predator, are starting to feel like the prey. This is unacceptable to you.

“This is unacceptable, Bethild,” You find yourself saying as you find Bethild lounging on a settee, knitting up a project Astarion likely has her working for you, no doubt. Bethild is caught off guard, unsure of exactly what you mean; but you don’t know, either. Your clothing, your hair, your nails, your attitude: all of it was likely to be the source of your disturbance.

“My lady?” Bethild moves to stand, but you click your tongue at her.

“Don’t act so unfamiliar with me, Bethild. I’ve known your mind almost your whole life,” You try to soften your voice, but you likely fail by the look on Bethild’s face: still, she hardly wavers. She’s handled you for some time now. You don’t need to hide from her. You feel a little lighter around her, you notice. She waits for you to speak.

“I…” You begin, but you don’t know why your voice falters.

“Do you need help getting dressed? Perhaps finding your room?”

“No! No…” You swallow. You look at Bethild intensely. She knows you won’t harm her, but she can’t help but feel just a little afraid, her heart beating a little faster by the second: it was only natural for the living to fear the bloodsucking dead. “W-well…”

She knows you’re upset. “Lady Ancunín, wouldn’t you like to wear something more substantial? The Master would be displeased to know you're walking around in your shift.”

Thinking about Astarion makes your chest ache, and hearing his mention hurts no less. You nod in agreement with Bethild – you like your freedom in your dress, hair, and general actions, but you draw a line at meeting a hundred spawn in nothing but a robe. “Please, yes. But…”

Bethild gives you a moment to think, but not too long – she’s quite used to your infamous long pauses and is known to move the conversation along if she feels she must.

“Are you quite alright, mistress?”

You blink at her. You can’t help but wince in front of her, like a hurt puppy. You don’t think Bethild has seen you this vulnerable before. In your embarrassment, you quickly remind yourself that her demise will come so swiftly, her lifespan ticking before your immortal eyes, and who would she tell of your weakness? Does it even matter to you, anymore? Don’t you just want to be yourself? What does that even mean, to ‘be yourself’?

“How about you sit, dear. You don’t look very well, do you need something to eat?”

You shake your head, but you sit across from her, entirely unaware of just how awkward you are being.

“You have children, four of them, don’t you?” You ask; not thinking about how you probably shouldn’t mention her children just after she asked you if you need a snack. ‘A child would probably be just enough blood for a small meal,’ You silently jest to yourself. Astarion would appreciate your joke, you begrudgingly think.

This makes you wonder, for just a moment, about your parents – you don’t think of them often, now, being that you are Astarion’s offspring. In your regards, it was he who raised you; he’s taught you everything you know as a vampire. You’ve been with him since you were just a few years out of girlhood, and he’s been more to you than your parents ever were. It’s hard to remember their faces – for a moment, you think that since Astarion met them so many years ago, he could just show you again, before realizing he can’t, anymore. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to the silence in your head.

Many things have been forgotten by you, simply due to the passage of time; having that worm in your head could’nt have helped. Still, you’ve lived a long life filled with so many pleasures, with discomfort being something that you rarely ever experienced; until you met Geldon Moth, of course. Those painful memories seem to be the loudest, too, even if they are muddled for whatever reason. You don’t know, anymore, and you aren’t sure it matters. You’ve accepted your mess. Now you must figure out how to clean it up.

But isn’t that what your husband and the servants are for? Aren’t they all here for you? To serve you? You don’t understand your place in the world anymore.

“Yes, and a grandchild on the way.” When Bethild speaks, you’d nearly forgotten she was there. You smile. Bethild can’t help but remark on your frightening majesty in her head; she isn’t used to speaking with you so casually. At least she doesn’t think you’re ugly.

“So you’ve spent a lot of time in your marital bed?” You ask, putting off just enough charm to make her agreeable. A blush rises to Bethild’s cheeks.

“My lady…if you must know, yes. My husband and I are quite close.” But her face drops once she seems to realize where you’re going with this. Bethild knows you were taken by an evil vampire lord, and she’s thinking about he probably raped you…

“He did.” You think this is the first time you may have said it explicitly. Your face is stone, your heart is void. Angel said your soul was pure, but you think he must be lying now; because you feel there isn’t anything but darkness inside of you anymore. “He raped me. And he had others do so, too. And now my husband wants my body, and I want to give it to him, but I can’t, and he’s…” You don’t want her knowing about you and Astarion’s other arguments: there is (albeit ancient) murder involved, and she shouldn't know any details.

“Just being a…” You ponder this for a moment. “A k’chakhi. Is that…has that ever happened to you?”

No. You and Bethild think this at the same time. Bethild’s had a fairly comfortable life for a peasant: she has a lovely husband, and Astarion pays her well to care for you: which is part of why she’s such a good servant. You know her mind enough to know she’s experienced little harm in her life. The next thing she thinks is how she hates hearing you use githyanki slander – ‘a waste of a perfectly good Lady.’ She doesn’t quite know what it means, only that it sounds vulgar coming from your lips. You can’t help but smile a little, despite the grim topic.

“It hasn’t, dear. And I’m sorry it happened to you,” Bethild pauses, her plain face twisting in apprehension. “Might I speak freely, Lady Ancunín?”

“Don’t you always?”

“Hmph. As often as I need, darling.” Bethild says, her face softening as she does. Maybe she isn’t so plain as you first thought, the longer you look at her: her skin is clear and soft, and she looks younger than her years. Her rounded chin adds to her almost girlish look, and her eyes have a sparkle to them. You feel relief to see life in her eyes. You wonder if the drow was ever happy. When did he last have a sparkle in his eyes? When he was finally dancing with the maiden of death? Is that who you are, now?

For a moment, you wonder if you’re still charming her by accident: but maybe you’re just seeing her for the first time. Her heart rate is slowing down as she seems to soak you in, too: she wonders about your gold eye. She thinks it's strange but beautiful, and compliments the red one fairly well – but her mind focuses on this for only a second before she wonders if Astarion’s forced himself on you, or been cruel to you in some manner. She doesn’t expect this of him, but she thinks he hasn’t been himself since you disappeared, and even worse since you’ve been back…

“Worse?” You ask, reminding the woman that you’re in her head. Bethild knows this, of course, but it still freaks her out a little. “You think he’s been worse since I’ve returned?”

Bethild blinks, and for a split second, thinks twice about speaking her thoughts aloud, but she continues. “Yes. He’s…I don’t know if your Master is taking care of himself properly.”

You recognize her words, thinking about how exhausted Astarion always looks, how clingy he’s been with you, and how his words sometimes feel procured, as if he’s only telling you what he wants you to hear. Now, you just feel antsy; this behavior is familiar to you, but in the past, it had always been more explicit. Does he mean to lock you away again? Surely he wouldn’t…

Bethild notices your runaway thoughts, quickly redirecting you. “Come, let’s get you into something decent.”

But Bethild’s thoughts linger: she doesn’t understand why you haven’t spoken to your master yourself – why you haven’t noticed his changes. But she suspects you’ve been far too wrapped up in yourself, as you always are. Bethild brings you something casual to wear from your bedroom, and you end up changing in the servants’ quarters for the first time in your whole life. There’s nothing special about it: merely prompting you to consider how you’ve ended up right here, right now, and how you are going to remedy it.

~ ~ ~

Astarion can’t tell if it’s in his head or not, but he feels like his siblings – especially Petras and Leon, is targeting you as if they’re trying to kill you first to add insult to injury. Sure, Astarion knows his siblings are being compelled, but still…the look of envy is apparent in the eyes of the spawn. He’s fallen in love, he has friends, allies, and nearly his freedom. Astarion has it all, and the other six have clearly been subject to more torture, and more starvation. He pities them.

Astarion hardly cares about this anymore. The sacrifice of his siblings was entirely worth it, even if you do hate him. After you left the boudoir, Astarion found himself scrambling around the bedroom, kicking and screaming and crying; once calm, he consulted with the palace wizards, librarians, and the other intellectuals still at the palace until there wasn’t anything else productive to do except try to finally rest. Although he keeps a protective eye on you, just to ensure your safety, he doesn’t bother you, despite how badly he wants to. No, Astarion hasn’t rested for some time – just a few hours of reverie would help, he thinks. He can be with you there; but the memories he lands on surprise him. Why did he go back so far?

Leon lunges at you, hissing and scratching at your armor – you move as if your body follows your arm, swinging your sword through to cut Leon. The feral spawn tries to dodge, but fails, disappearing to red mist just as your sword hits his body. Petras comes from behind you – Astarion is quick with his crossbows, filling his brother's chest with arrows, preventing him from getting another swing at you. Astarion can’t help but protect you in battle. As a rogue, he hides in the shadows, burying his arrows in anyone who dares try to attack you. At one point, Shadowheart even complains, saying Astarion needs to focus on other enemies, not just the ones attacking his girlfriend. He does better spray his arrows out, but he still keeps a close eye on you. You swing your sword with grace, your tactical moves and a body seemingly weightless; you just have a way about you when you fight. You look like a dancer, effortlessly seducing the blade and your foe. He admires it tenfold – and admires you more than anyone in this world. You’re beautiful, kind when life calls for it, brutal all the same. You are balanced – you are balance for Astarion. Watching his siblings hurt you solidified his decision: he would take the ritual from beneath Cazador’s feet, perform that lover's ritual he’s heard about, and the two of you could be safe: forever, for good. When the fight dies down, he immediately comes to you. Seeing that you’re visibly unharmed, Astarion cracks some joke about you finally meeting his family. You don't laugh – you can’t. The worry and fear are all over your beautiful face.

“I’m doing this for you too, you know. So we’ll be safe. Forever, for good.” Astarion speaks with conviction, letting the smile drop from his face to convey how serious he is. He means this, and he wants you to know it. He doesn’t want to play games anymore – he’s tired of being hunted. Tired of fighting, tired of dragging you through this with him – unfortunately, he knows he needs you to defeat Cazador with him. That’s who you are, he begrudgingly thinks: his strong protector.

“What are you saying, ‘Star?” You ask, eyes wide, reaching out to him; he takes your hands, which are surprisingly smooth despite your tactical abilities. That’s the thing – Astarion knows you don’t really need him to protect you, not physically. But you are a young, naive thing, one he doesn’t want getting hurt. His selfish desire for you is the one thing Astarion is allowing himself, and he needs you to just give it to him.

“I think I hear wedding bells in your future, Tav,” Wyll teases as he hands his sword to Karlach, who’s promptly wiping off the blood, having been put on this duty after losing some silly bet to Gale that Astarion hadn’t been privy to. Wyll isn’t entirely wrong, but he knows they wouldn’t understand what Astarion wants with you is far more than a legally binding contract.

Astarion shoots a grimace at Wyll, who does need to shut up.

Ever since your arrival in Baldur’s Gate, Astarion’s felt both confident and horrifically terrified. Most days, he lands somewhere in between, his greatest comfort being you. The one comfort he wishes he could enjoy fully, despite the two of you sleeping together every night. You have ever since he confessed to you, that when your albeit enjoyable trysts ended, your intimacy and love began. Astarion loves nothing more than to hold you at night. It means so much to him to have someone to be with, someone he likes, someone he loves, and you’re so beautiful…so you.

“Let me have you tonight,” Astarion whispers to you amidst the soft sounds of your sleeping companions. The commotion of the spawn attack finally dies down, leaving the two of you to the quiet of the suite. Halsin’s snores could be heard from around the room, and Jaheira and Minsc are known to kick in their sleep. Once, earlier in your adventure, you told Astarion you saw Minsc’s dreams one night: he was locked in a cage, tortured next to a far younger Jaheira, whose cries could be heard throughout whatever dark and dank prison they were in. Your psychic background was known to the whole party, but Astarion became privy to some of the finer details of your condition: strange ways you were able to unlock glimpses of the future, and sometimes even the past and present, it seems. You sometimes just knew things that Astarion didn’t know how to account for – to be fair, you’re rather observant, and you have a knack for connecting with others. Not to mention that pesky tadpole, which certainly complicates things, (you attested this to why you had been able to see Minsc’s dreams, but Astarion isn’t so sure) but it also gave you and Astarion insight into each other's minds, and you two became known to each other quickly once you truly bonded back in the Shadow Cursed Lands.

Astarion uses the tadpole now, sharing his thoughts of burying his face between your thighs before sliding himself into you missionary style, kissing and sucking at your neck before easing his fangs into delicate flesh, your rapid heartbeat loud in his ears, your warm skin beneath his cold touch. Gods; his cock has been hard ever since the end of the battle – after your party had cleaned up, Astarion set his sights on passionately kissing you, grabbing at whatever curvature of your body he could. He quickly got you settled in bed, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tightly.

You smile, but you look a little shy, a blush rising on your cheeks. You’re so cute like that, still so shy with him – he understands it. You hadn’t much experience when you met him, other than a few minor instances when you were a teen, when you shared a kiss with Wyll at the damned tiefling party, and the times you recently spent with Lae’zel in her tent, much to Astarion’s dismay.

He hadn’t cared much about those things then, you being with others. It was more annoying to him than anything else, because it meant there was competition, and he needed you the most. No, Astarion tells himself he didn’t mind sharing your body (at least, for a handful of centuries) just like he didn't mind when you bled a little after he first entered you back in the clearing. He thought it was endearing, to be the first man to break through your walls, spearing through your hymen to reach your depths. When Astarion finally pulled himself out of you to clean you with his mouth, he swore that blood was sweeter than anything…

Not even your virginal blood tastes as good as you do now that you’re his. But when you were still alive, when your heart still beat, Astarion swore it was the taste of the heavens themselves.

“Are you sure? Last time…” You begin, immediately making Astarion feel heavy in his gut. “I just don’t want you to push yourself, ‘Star. We don’t have to.”

Astarion furrows his brows, desperately wanting you to be quiet – to let him lead, to let him have you. He ignores you, brushing his lips to yours, tongue lazily teasing your bottom lip, using all his sweetest moves on you.

Astarion doesn’t want to sit with this memory anymore. He wasn’t able to perform that night:

Astarion can’t stop looking at your face. You’re so pretty, such a stunning young woman, and yet, he feels worse and worse as his lips trail over your smooth skin, his fingers swirling inside you. Those same fingers have been inside countless other women and men, and he wants so desperately not to think of it: the sheer number of bodies that have touched him, that have now touched you. He imagines thousands of hands grabbing onto him, onto you, dragging you both below, right back down to the dungeons of Cazador’s estate. He pulls back again, fixing his eyes to yours. The flicker of the fireplace roars in the middle of the suite, giving you both just enough light to admire one another amidst darkness. Your naked figure is something out of a dream, yet it brings him back to the present: you lie on your back. Your naked breasts, your pert nipples, hardened from pleasure and the chill of the breeze from an open window, add only to your sex appeal. Your lips are parted, creating some strange, perverted desire within Astarion to see your tongue.

You’re so comfortable with him. Him: he who is a monster, a stalker in the night. Astarion’s led hundreds to their deaths. Even just a few months ago, he was doing Cazador’s bidding, and yet here you are: the sweet, even-hearted leader, on her back for the monster. Your racing heartbeat, your utter vulnerability…it’s bringing out Astarion’s prey drive, and his fangs ache to be buried inside you.

“Astarion…” You whisper, having noticed his absence. You half-heartedly try to pull his hand away from your sex, gripping at his wrist. In a few days, you will face Cazador. And if all goes horribly wrong, this may be one of the last times he could have you – and, truthfully, he thinks it would be a good distraction; he’s in no mood to rest, and watching you sleep is hardly exciting. And now, he’s feeling a bit peckish.

“Shh,” Astarion’s voice comes out in a seductive, hushed whisper. He kisses you again, capturing your protests in his mouth, curling his fingers inside of you to make you squirm. He remembers it’s you crying beneath him, the woman he loves, and not some stranger or friend of Cazador, or Cazador himself…it’s you. And he can bite you, and know all of you because you’ll do anything for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” He coos, unable to contain his praise for you. His nose trails along your jaw, down your collarbone; he can feel you shiver in his arms.

You chirp in pain when Astarion spears his fangs into you; he puts a hand over your mouth, continuing to push his fingers into you, slipping in a third when he feels your contraction die down, your body relaxing once again from your intense orgasm. His thumb gently works your clitoris – your body is so sensitive, and bringing you to ruin makes him feel so powerful. He believes with you by his side, anything is possible.

Some things never change.

Astarion can’t feed on you forever: the disgust usually comes back once he draws his fangs away from your neck. He’s already taken too much blood, he can tell just by the way you swoon, the way your hazy eyes slowly blink at him. He can’t deny he likes you this way: you’re weak. You probably couldn’t fight him off if you tried, as you’re naked, woozy from blood loss, and the monster's hands are inside you.

He would kill to have that trust back.

His cock is uncomfortably hard as he pulls his underclothes down, his member twitching as he rubs it against your hip. You don’t have much privacy at the elfsong – that’s part of the fun to Astarion – but the two of you have abandoned some caution along the way, ditching the blanket that once covered your forms. If anyone wakes up and sees you now, the shroud of a blanket won’t change a thing: the two of you are obviously making love. Still, you both move quickly and quietly, despite your brief protests when he starts to touch your sensitive bundle of nerves again, which you complain is too sensitive, so overwhelming…

“Y-you just like to play with me,” You cry, against Astarion’s lips, breaking your fervent kisses to take a breath. “Meanie…”

“Oh, I am quite mean, aren’t I, for playing with my food?” Astarion whispers, his voice teasing in your ear. He’s gently stroking his cock, his palm rising up and down on his shaft, squeezing before he starts to rub on your hip again. Bringing his hand to your jaw, he ensures you’re looking into his eyes. He wants you to get lost in him. But it is he who finds himself lost in you.

He wants to tell you he loves you. It pops into his mind quite suddenly, a voice in the back of his head whispering: I love you, Tav. It makes him wonder why you haven’t said it to him first, though.

He still tastes your blood in his mouth when he brings his fingers away from you, popping them in his mouth, licking them clean. The taste of your blood and your come mix so perfectly.“You’re a feast for me. Don’t you know I survive entirely on the blood and intimate juices of very bad girls?”

Your eyes go wide like a child caught stealing sweets. “Bad? I’ve been bad?”

Astarion can’t help but chuckle, causing you to gasp, putting your hands over his mouth to muffle the noise. He could care less about what the others think: you’re going to be his, and he’s having fun. The two of you continue like this for some time, stifled moans, giggles, kisses and nips…

Astarion only realizes he can’t continue right before he pushes into you. It isn’t the worst kind of torture, not being able to make love to you, but it’s pretty damn bad. He just wants you both to feel good, to be close to each other; one moment, the both of you are stripped naked, hot and bothered, precum dripping from the tip of his cock, your core slick for him, all for him just to have to pull away.

You hid your disappointment well: you coaxed Astarion back from the brink, making him feel more secure in your love and care. He wonders if your time of nursing and comforting him is over, now that you hate him. No matter, he tells himself, even though he knows very well it certainly does matter. Astarion falls back into reverie, to a slightly later memory:

Astarion has been traveling in the vaults under Sorcerous Sundries in the Gate, just two days after the spawn assault at the Elfsong. You lead the fray, as you always do, with Gale and Karlach in toe, looting the place high and low for supplies. Although the party is pretty rich, you insist on searching every nook and cranny. Astarion agrees with you, of course, because you’re right: he too feels the party needs more time and resources before they attack Cazador’s palace.

‘The Chronicles of Straud’ the title read; it was a thick book tucked away somewhere in Lorroakan's vault, and was making for an interesting read as Astarion occasionally sent glances your way, specifically when you would bend over to pick something up. Your ass just looks amazing in your new armor, and he catches the others checking you out, too. Annoying.

“Karlach,” Astarion calls, the red tiefling quickly looking away from your round hips as her eyes meet Astarion’s. Gale also turns around, having been startled by Astarion’s voice.

“What? I didn’t do anything wrong! I was just admiring the lovely armor you bought her,” Karlach chuckles, smoothing away her embarrassment as she wipes her hand across her forehead. You’ve caught on, now, turning around to give Astarion and Karlach a knowing, disapproving look, but you grin nonetheless, unable to hide your laughter. Astarion smiles at your smile.

Gale and Karlach continue to scour the vault, Gale excitedly calling out every good find, Karlach cheering him on as he does so. You shoot Astarion a sultry smirk before doing a little waltz over to him, plopping down next to him on the steel floor of the vault.

“What’s got your attention?” You ask, a curious smile on your pretty, smooth face.

Astarion chuckles, his eyes flickering to your plush lips for only a moment before meeting your eyes. Astarion swiftly closes the book, losing his bookmark on the page titled: ‘The Dark Kiss’. It’s not that he means to be evasive, but he isn’t ready to share with you yet. Once he tells you he plans to make you his forever, that’s basically a love confession and a proposal in one – that’s way too much for Astarion in this state. His freedom isn’t even guaranteed, yet; not while Cazador still lives.

“Ah, just some reading about the life of Straud. He was a formidable vampire in his day,” Astarion explains, handing the book over to you. You have no real interest in reading some random book, so Astarion knows he’s safe to show you.

“Oh. I’ve never heard of him,” You say, turning the book over in your hand. He chuckles at this because he isn’t surprised: you knew nothing of vampires when he uh…accidentally revealed himself to you.

Astarion can tell there’s something on your mind. When he asks you, you explain that you’ve been feeling antsy ever since the spawn attacked in the dead of night. “They tried to take you away – and now we know about the ritual…I just want you to be free. To have everything you want, that I know you deserve.”

Your words are sweet, and your lips are even sweeter. He hungrily kisses you, not caring if the others see. He knows you love him despite your lack of confession, and that you’ll do anything for him – hells, you’ve done everything he’s asked, and more. He just wants to give you so much more than what he can right now. And he should be able to give you something extraordinary once he ascends. ‘The Dark Kiss’: Astarion thinks it sounds sensual. And how lucky he is to have found the ritual hidden amongst Lorroakan’s valuables. As the days go on, Astarion likes you more and more – and he likes the other less and less. Even he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he wants all your attention. But Astarion knows that wouldn’t be good for the party: there is too much at stake. The thought makes him pause, fluttering his eyes open as he tumbles that ancient thought around in his head: for the good of the party. But Astarion doesn’t care about the party, only the Ancuníns. So, your husband finds himself finally asking: what is best for the Ancuníns?

#astarion fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion x reader #ascended astarion x female reader #ascended astarion x you #lord astarion #ascended astarion x reader #Killing Time

34 notes · View notes

heavyhitterheaux · 9 months

Text

December 21st

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack, your fiancé of two weeks, make it official. Forever.

Pairing: Baby!Jack Harlow x Baby!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

It was one in the morning, cold as shit outside since it was the middle of December, but you wanted to look at the stars and Jack could never tell you no. You were currently laying on his chest as a blanket was wrapped around both of you when you just knew this white boy had lost his fucking mind.

“We should get married.”

“Jackman, are you high?”

“No, but even if I was, my answer wouldn’t change. Ever since I saw your cute little self with those braids in your hair when you first moved here, I didn’t want anyone else.”

“Wait... you’re fucking serious? Jack, our parents will kill us.”

“Can’t kill us if they don’t know.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to give you an answer with that horrible ass proposal you just did.”

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Jackman Thomas Harlow. Can’t live without you stink.”

“Well, since you’re practically begging me to, yes. Now where’s my ring?”

“About that…”

“Jack, you literally proposed to me without a ring?”

“The thought just popped in my head just now! I didn’t really think this through.”

“Jackman!”

“When I make my first million, I’m buying you the most beautiful ring that’s pear shaped since I know you love it so much. But I'll get you something else in the meantime.”

You simply shrugged.

“I would’ve said yes to you even if you proposed with one of those rings from the bubble gum machines at the grocery store.”

“Damn, mamas. I got more money than that.”

“Jack, we have had to eat at my parents house and your parents house all week because we were tired of eating ramen at our apartment.”

“Touché.”

It was around nine in the morning when you had called Dani to see what she was up to and wanted to see if she wanted to spend the day with you.

Jack had just proposed to you the night before and you were itching to tell someone. But the two of you agreed to not tell your parents fearing that they may tell the two of you to wait.

But you didn't want to wait. You knew for a fact that this was the person that you were supposed to be with it, so why not just go for it now?

You knew Dani wouldn't let it slip and figured that she could also serve as your witness.

The most important question on your mind was what you were going to wear.

You thought that you obviously weren't going to go all out, but still wanted to look pretty for a day as special as this one was going to be.

Jack had gone out with Urban and the two of you decided to tell PG later that day when all of you met up to play laser tag as a way to celebrate your birthday that had taken place about a week before.

It was around 2 in the morning when the two of you had decided to finally head back to your apartment and both of you couldn't help but to be all smiles.

As Jack was driving, the radio was on a low volume as you were staring out the window. You were broken out of your trance once Jack had grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

“Why are you so quiet, princess? What are you thinking about over there?” He asked as he got off the highway and was heading to the parking garage of your apartment building.

“Just taking it all in. Really happy and excited for this.”

“Even if you don't have a ring?”

“I have you, so what do I need the ring for? That's more important than anything.” You said while turning to look at him.

“But you deserve one, babe. It was just a spare of the moment thing and I just blurted it out.”

“But you knew that whenever you did it that I wasn't going to say no. Like I said, I have you and the material things can come later.”

“I already have an idea in mind of how it's going to look too.”

“And I can't wait to see it.”

Dani had picked up on the third ring and you couldn’t help but to blurt it out.

“Hii baby girl!”

“DANI, JACK PROPOSED TO ME LAST NIGHT!” You basically yelled and it was quiet for a few seconds as you were waiting for her response.

“I… wait… seriously?”

“YES!”

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes obviously!”

“Lil Bit….” Dani started to say and your heart sank feeling like she didn't approve.

“You think I should have said no, don't you?”

“No! That isn't it at all! The two of you are just so young. You literally just turned 19 the other day.”

“But if you know that's the person that you want to be with, then why hold back? I love him very much and anyone can see that.”

“I know you do. We can all tell. I just…. Don't want you to regret this. I… not that I think you will.”

“Why am I going to regret marrying my best friend and favorite person in the world? I thought you would be happy for me.” You answered and you could feel your eyes brimming with tears.

“I am! Just…”

“Whatever. Bye.”

Without another word, you hung up your phone and threw it on the bed behind you as you angrily wiped the tears from your face that had fallen.

Next thing you knew, you heard your phone ringing and peeked to see that it was Dani calling you back and all you did was roll your eyes and watched it until it stopped.

When your phone rang again, it was a facetime call from Jack and you quickly answered, but immediately knew that he was going to be able to tell that something was wrong.

“Yes, babe?” You said and all he did was eye you.

“You're upset. And you've been crying. What happened?” He asked, concerned but you just shook your head.

“It's not important.”

“If something made my girl cry, it damn sure is important.”

“I'll just tell you later. I don't want to talk about it right now.”

“Fine, but don't think for one second that you're going to get out of it.”

“Okay.”

“I called to see if you wanted something from Morris Deli. Me and Urb are about to be there in a few minutes.”

You sighed before answering.

“I'll just take my usual with my mango lemonade Calypso.”

“Of course, baby. You want anything else?”

You quickly shook your head as you wiped away a stray tear that had fallen.

“You look like you could use a blueberry muffin so I'll definitely bring you some.”

That made you crack a small smile and you quickly nodded agreeing with him.

“Be back soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Once Jack had gotten back, he found you in your shared bedroom flipping through channels to find something to watch when he came up to you and leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead before setting your food in front of you.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before he slid in beside you on the bed and promptly took the remote from you.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong now? Don’t think that I forgot.”

You simply sighed before answering.

“I called Dani to tell her about what happened and it seemed as if she thought we were making a mistake and should wait. She didn't flat out say that, but I could tell that she had her hesitations.”

“But my question to you is, why do we care what people think? We know this is real and we're getting married to each other, so should their opinion really matter?” Jack asked while looking at you before pushing his glasses back up onto his face.

“I guess not.”

“You love me, I love you, and that's all that matters. Point blank period. Who gives a fuck if people don't like it?”

“It shouldn't bother me, but it does.”

“Once we say our vows, they'll have no choice but to accept it and accept us. I want forever with you and I know we're making the right decision.”

“If that's how she reacted, how do you think PG will?” You asked, hoping that they would be supportive of you.

“They'll probably ask what took us so long to do it.”

“Hmm, I can see that.”

“But for now, I want you to not dwell on what she said, or what she didn’t say for that matter. We have bigger things to worry about and focus on.”

“True.” You quietly said before reaching for a blueberry muffin that you proceeded to break in half and hand it to Jack who quickly accepted it.

It was quiet for a few seconds before you spoke up again.

“Now, the most important part is what am I going to wear?”

As thoughts were running through your mind about what your outfit choice will be, Jack quietly muttered to himself.

“The most important part for me is getting a ring for you.”

“What was that, babe?” You asked as you handed your drink to him so that he could open it for you.

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little self about.” Jack answered as he handed you back your drink and leaned over to kiss your cheek which immediately made you smile.

—-

Later that night after you, Jack, and PG met up and went to laser tag, all of you were now sitting around the table in one of your favorite burger spots and it was around 10 at night when Urban quickly took notice of something.

“What is up with you two?” He asked while looking over at you and Jack who was currently feeding you cheese fries.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as you also looked at Urban curiously.

“Something’s different and I don’t know how I know and I don’t know what it is, but something is different.”

“How is anything different? They are literally sucking each other’s faces off every three minutes and making me sick as usual.” 2fo quickly piped up and all you did was roll your eyes and throw a fry at him which he quickly caught and ate.

“Hmm, no. Something is different. So spill it.” Urban said and both you and Jack exchanged looks.

“Should we tell them?” He asked while looking at you for confirmation.

“Tell us what?!” Shloob asked and now all eyes were on the two of you.

“I guess we can. I mean we might as well.” You responded while shrugging.

“Okay what we’re about to tell you CANNOT leave this table.” Jack started to say, but Quiiso quickly screamed.

“Oh shit, you got her pregnant didn’t you?!”

“What?! NO! Shut up for a second and listen!”

“Not going to lie, I thought that was where we were going for a second too.” Urban quickly agreed before looking back over at the two of you for an explanation.

“Jack asked me to marry him.” You quickly blurted out and the table went dead silent as everyone’s mouth was hanging wide open in disbelief.

“I… come again? Like walk down the aisle married? Like till death do yall part married? Like…..”

“Yes, Ace.”

“And are we absolutely positive that you’re not pregnant?” 2fo asked again while looking at you.

“NO!”

“Wait a minute, well what did you say?! Don’t leave us in suspense!”

“Come on now, Urb. We know she said yes!”

“How do you know I said yes?!”

All of them simply looked at you before rolling their eyes which made Jack stifle a laugh and you lightly hit him on his shoulder.

“Okay fine, I said yes. But yall can’t tell anyone. We’re not even telling our parents.”

“Oh good lord so you mean to tell me Mama Ivy and Mama Maggie are not only about to beat yall asses when they find out, but ours too?”

“And that’s why none of you are saying anything about it, correct?” Jack asked as he eyed them and everyone quickly nodded.

“Well, where’s your ring?!”

“Um, working on that part. She’ll have it by the time we say our vows.”

“What the? Not Jack proposing to our girl without a ring….”

“It was a spare of the moment thing and I just blurted it out!”

“Hmm, typical.”

“Now you know she loves your ass if you proposed to her without a ring and she still said yes.” Urban said while taking a sip of his soda.

“And, we’re absolutely positive you aren’t carrying baby Harlow?”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, NO 2FO!”

He immediately held his hands up in defense as he looked over at the two of you.

“Okay, okay! Just making sure!”

By the time you, Jack, and Urban got back to your apartment it was past midnight and you were ready to catch up on some much needed sleep. Before you did, you decided that you were going to take a shower in order for you to be able to sleep better. Being able to sleep next to Jack was simply a plus.

While you were in the shower, Jack was trying to come up with a plan in order to get you a ring and was asking Urban for his help.

“I can’t exactly get her everything she wants right now and I know she understands that, but I still want to get her something.”

“Maybe a pawn shop? You might be able to find something there. But I have a question and don’t take this the wrong way.”

“What is it?”

“When you do get signed because we know it’s bound to happen, I don’t think that they’re going to want to push the narrative that you’re married. They might even try to convince you to break up with her.”

“Like that’s ever going to happen and where was the question in that?” Jack responded as he rolled his eyes.

“Jack, I’m being serious. I get that you told us to not say anything, but….”

“And that’s why the only people who are going to know are the ones that need to. I’m not going to let anything come between me and her.”

“But, are you sure that this is the right move to make? And to do it now?”

“I thought you would be happy for us about this.” Jack said quickly getting defensive.

“That isn’t it at all. I just….. We’ve heard stories about the industry and how ruthless and cut-throat people can be. Look, all I’m saying is that you better not forget that she was with you when you didn’t have a damn thing to your name. Don’t switch up on your girl because I will beat your ass if you do.”

Over the course of the next week, Dani still hadn’t gotten an answer from you despite how many times that she tried to call you in order to be able to explain herself. As a last resort, she sent a text to Jack hoping that what she was about to suggest would make up for it.

Dani- Jack, would you have happened to have gotten her ring yet?

Jack- Nope and the last thing I want is for her to be disappointed, but between her birthday just passing and Christmas coming, I have no idea how I’m going to do it

Dani- I know someone and I can help you pay for it. It's the least that I can do since I know she's mad at me right now with how I reacted when she told me.

Jack- That's nice of you, but I have no idea when I would be able to pay you back for it.

Dani- All I ask for in return is you taking care of my little sister and being the best possible husband to her. Don't worry about paying me back. Meet me at 11 near Carmichael's so we can go and get it. Do you have an idea of what she wants?

Jack- Definitely princess cut or pear shaped

Dani- She's going to be so surprised when you show it to her

Jack was now holding onto your ring back at your shared apartment and he was simply staring at it in awe hoping that you loved it as much as he did.

He had it in the back of his mind that he had to remember to do something really nice for Dani when he got the opportunity to do so for doing this for him.

Because he knew she definitely didn't have to.

Even though he knew that you were still upset with her, he did tell her where you were because he figured that you would have wanted help when it came to picking out something to wear. He knew that you just wanted something simple, but also knew deep down that out of all people you would want your sister to help you make a final decision.

While you were going to look for a dress, Jack was going to pick up Clay and spend the rest of the day with him and tell him that he asked for you to marry him.

They were both sitting across from each other at KFC since Jack had treated him when Jack had just blurted it out and Clay was mid-bite when he stopped chewing and looked up at his older brother in disbelief.

“Want to run that one by me again?”

“I asked Y/N to marry me.”

“You do realize mom and dad are going to kill you.”

“Can't kill me if they don’t know.”

“WAIT! So you're not even going to tell them!?”

“I’m an adult, what do I need to tell them for?”

“Uh, because? It's not like this is life changing or anything.” Clay shot back being sarcastic.

“We've been together since we were 15, they had to have seen this coming.”

“But…”

“Look Clay, I want you to be there. But, you can't tell mom and dad. We're going to tell them, we just aren't doing it right now.”

“You got her pregnant didn’t you?”

“NO! She's not pregnant! Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Because what two nineteen year olds just wake up and decide to get married?”

“We do.”

“I… I won't say anything. I see how happy the two of you make each other so it was bound to happen, I guess.”

“She means the world to me and I figured if I found my person, why should I wait to marry her?”

You were currently at the mall looking through racks of different dresses when you were caught off guard by your big sister staring at you when you looked up.

All you did was sigh and immediately rolled your eyes as she made her way closer.

“Lil Bit…”

“What do you want? I have a dress to shop for.”

“I know and that’s why I’m here. Jack sent me.” She softly said and you rolled your eyes again.

“Got damn it. I forgot we always have each other’s location on. I’m going to kick his ass.”

“No, don’t. He did it because he knew that deep down you would want for me to help you and that’s all I’m here to do. Help you look pretty on your big day even though you don’t need much help to begin with.” She said while pinching your cheek and you immediately swatted her hand away.

When you were quiet as you were looking at dresses, she piped up once again.

“Will it help you forgive me if I tell you that I’m going to buy your dress and not to worry about the price? And if you haven’t gotten Jack’s ring, I’ll pay for that too.”

Your eyes went wide and immediately left the sales rack to go over to the regularly priced items and all she did was laugh as she followed behind you.

“Then I take that as a yes.”

“But I’m still mad at you.”

“What I said was never meant to hurt you. I said it out of concern. I know that Jack is going to take care of you. There is literally no doubt in my mind about that. But wait, are you pregnant? Because…”

“WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT?! NO I’M NOT.”

“Okay, okay! I was just asking!” She said while holding her hands up in defense as you were now holding up a white tulle dress and you were in awe. You had the perfect set of combat boots to go with it since you didn't want to wear heels.

“That would look gorgeous on you. Go and try it on.” She excitedly said as she pushed you towards the dressing room.

Once back at your apartment, you had to do your best to hide your dress from Jack and decided that putting it in Urban’s closet was the best idea that you could possibly come up with. What you didn’t expect was for Jack to be at the door as soon as you opened it ready to greet you.

“Hi baby, did you find a dress?” He asked as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Yes, and no you can’t see it.”

“What the? Why not?!”

“It’s bad luck, Jackman Thomas! I want this marriage to last forever and not 24 hours!”

“We are not going to break up in 24 hours if I see your dress! How am I supposed to coordinate your outfit with mine?!”

“It’s white. Do what you will with that information.”

“WHAT?! Baby! You can’t be serious! That’s all you’re going to tell me?!”

“Yes smush, now move. And I’m putting it in Urban’s room and you better not peek. You'll see it once I'm ready.” You said while giving him the evil eye, but all he did in response was roll his eyes at you.

You then made your way down the hallway to see Urban’s room door open and all he did was stare at you as you made a beeline for his closet. Once you opened it, you quickly put your dress in the far left corner before closing it.

“Urby, you are on dress duty. If Jackman tries to sneak a peek at it or even you for that matter, I will mop the floor with both of you and steal your weed.”

“I… is all that really necessary?”

“NO PEEKING!”

You went back out into the living room to find Jack flipping through channels on the television and you quickly went and sat down in his lap.

“Babe, we have to decide when we want to do this.” You heard him say as you turned your body so that you were sitting sideways and leaned your head down on his shoulder.

“I want to do it as soon as possible.”

“Wait… as in how soon?”

“I want to do it before Christmas.”

“Princess…. You are aware that Christmas is in six days, correct?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“The only day that we would be able to do it is the 21st.”

“Then the 21st it is.” You responded as you kissed his cheek before going to lay back down on his shoulder.

“You know Dani asked me if I was pregnant when she saw me.”

“Why is that everyone’s first thought?! We can't just get married because we want to?”

“Apparently not. And I should kick your ass for telling her where I was.”

“But I know my girl and I know you wanted her opinion on what you should wear. Am I right?”

“Don't push it, Jackman.”

“And obviously it went well since you definitely came back here with a dress.”

“Not the point.”

“Love you stink.”

“I don't know if I love you right now. Talk to me in fifteen minutes.”

“I….really?”

“Quit talking or I'll make it 20.”

It was the morning of the 21st and you woke up wrapped in Jack’s arms and simply smiled to yourself. This was about to be the first day of forever with him officially and reality was slowly starting to set it. Even though you didn’t let him see your dress, you still stayed in the apartment with him last night wanting for you both to be on time to the courthouse, because knowing you, you would be about an hour late and could only imagine the look on Jack’s face when you did show up.

Knowing how dramatic he was, he would probably think that you ditched him.

You turned to your left so that you were now facing Jack and placed a soft kiss on his cheek and he responded by hugging you tighter.

“Good morning my beautiful bride and future wife.”

“And good morning to you my handsome groom and future husband. What time do we have to be there?”

“Hmm in about three hours so we have plenty of time. Everyone knows what time to meet us there.”

“And… you're absolutely positive about not telling our parents about this?” You asked while sighing.

“So they can convince us to back out of it? We'll tell them when the time is right.”

“Okay, I guess that's fair.”

“And babe, don't be surprised that you don't have a lot of gifts under the tree this year. I had to pay…” Jack was immediately cut off by you shaking your head.

“Stop. And stop right now. The biggest gift that I get to have this year is marrying you. And how many times do I have to tell you that the material things are a plus? They can come later. I have you and that's what's important.”

“Damn, you really love me huh?” Jack asked you while smirking.

“Don't you think it's a little late to be asking me that seeing as I'm supposed to get married to you in less than three hours?”

Jack simply shrugged.

“Reassurance never hurt anyone. But just wait until I hit my first million. I'm buying you anything and everything you want.”

“No you're not because we need to save some too. You have to be smart about this. You're not going to be one of those rappers that spend all their money and go broke.”

“But if I do, will you still love me?”

“Smush, we're broke right now so obviously the answer is yes.”

“We are not broke!”

“Hmm, keep telling yourself that baby. Now in the meantime, I'm going to start getting ready if we want to be there on time.”

“Please do because knowing you, it'll be damn near midnight before we get there.”

“I'm ignoring you, so unhand me.”

Just then you heard your door bust wide open and looked to see Urban looking at the two of you and eating a bag of hot cheetos.

“Good, yall have clothes on because I never know anymore. HAPPY WEDDING DAY! Okay, now when are we leaving?”

“Around 10:45 and Urb, don't forget the ring.”

“Wait, you bought me a ring?” You asked, startled and taken aback while Jack just looked at you.

“Baby, did you honestly think that I was going to marry you without one?”

“Well you proposed to me without one…”

“I…”

“Welp, she got you there. Lil Bit got a ring for you too.” Urban piped up and now it was Jack’s turn to look surprised.

“You did!?”

“Baby, did you honestly think that I was going to marry you without one?” You said in Jack’s voice mocking him.

“Hey! I don't sound like that!”

But all you and Urban did was stare at him.

“Love you, now I'm going to get ready.”

You and Jack were now sitting in his car that was parked on the side of the building when he noticed that you were now starting to stare off into space.

“Babe?” Jack said before waving his hand in front of your face breaking you out of it.

“Oh, we're here already?”

“Princess, we've been here for almost fifteen minutes. Just waiting for everyone else to get here. You’re not having second thoughts are you? We can always….”

“No. We’re doing this and we’re doing it today. I never have second thoughts when it comes to you.”

Next thing you knew, Urban was flying into the parking lot with 2fo, Clay, and Shloob while Quiiso and Ace were coming in behind them.

“Good lord. And you're worried about my driving? Look at Urban.”

“I… Well…. The only thing that you’ve driven are go karts and that still didn’t go over well.”

“Now, we know that’s a lie. I bet that I’m going to get my license on the first try”

“Hmm, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

That was when both of you decided to get out of the car and Jack was helping you fix your dress when you looked over at Urban who was walking towards the two of you with everyone else and he was looking a little dazed.

“You cannot be fucking serious. Jackman…. is your best man HIGH right now!?” You said through gritted teeth.

“Come onnnn you two, we have a wedding to get to!” You heard Dani say from behind you and Jack didn't even have a chance to respond.

“Jack, just know if you mess up and she ends up divorcing you, I'm ready to slide in and replace you.” Clay said as he came up next to the two of you but all Jack did was roll his eyes.

“Clay, you can't marry her. You aren't old enough.”

“For now big brother. For now.”

“And Y/N, first, that dress looks amazing on you and second, give me a few more years.”

“Why thank you little baby.” You responded while pinching his cheek while Jack hit him in the back of his head.

“OW!”

“Urby…” You started to say as he was messing with his shirt.

“Urby….”

Silence.

“URBAN HENRY!”

“Oh, hmm? We ready to go inside?”

“I am never riding with this man ever again.” You heard 2fo muttered as he pulled out a cookie and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Yall can go in front of us, just give us a minute.”

Jack waited until everyone was out of earshot before he turned back to you and it looked like he was about to throw up at any minute.

“Uh? Babe? Are you okay?” You asked concerned and all he did was nod his head towards you.

“Sooo, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we’re really doing it. You love me enough to give me your last name?”

“From the first minute I saw that girl across the street with those pretty braids in her hair.”

All you could do was smile as you hugged him.

“You ready to get married? You ready for forever with me princess?”

“Damn right, I am.”

—

5 Years Later (This takes place after Two Halves of a Whole Idiot Instagram AU)

“Shit.”

“Fuck!”

The both of you looked at each other as you had both seen the comment that Urban had left under your instagram post and sighed.

There was no turning back now and it was officially out there for the entire world to see.

“URBAN!” Both you and Jack yelled before he peeked his head around the corner looking guilty.

“Uhh so I can delete my comment. I totally forgot.”

“HOW DID YOU FORGET THAT WE’RE MARRIED AND DIDN’T TELL ANYONE YET?!” Jack exclaimed while running a hand through his curls.

“Look, babe he was high when we did it and he’s probably high now, so are we really surprised?” You piped up and Jack stifled a laugh.

“I WAS NOT HIGH AND I’M NOT HIGH RIGHT NOW!”

“Our moms are going to kill us.” You quietly said while ignoring Urban’s last comment as you noticed your phone started ringing in your hand.

“Oh no.” You quietly said as you threw your head back in disbelief.

“Baby, who is that?”

“My mom and she’s not going to stop until I answer and I know that for a fact. So I’m turning my phone off. Jack, keep yours on.”

“WHAT? SO I CAN GET YELLED AT?”

“Better you than me. Maggie is going to mop the FLOOR with you. She loves me so I know she won’t be mad at me.”

“I… seriously?”

“Yes. Maybe if you tell her our first born will be named after her she’ll be less mad.”

“I thought the first born is going to be named after me?”

“Not now, Urban! We’re having a crisis here and it’s YOUR FAULT.”

“But is this really a bad thing? I mean…. People already know that the two of you are together.”

“Well it really doesn’t matter if it’s a bad thing or not. It’s out for the world to see so… nothing we can do about it now.”

Just then Jack’s phone rang and sure enough it was Maggie. He let it ring and proceeded to get a text from her soon after.

Mom- Either you answer my call or I’m getting on a plane with Ivy and we’ll be there by tonight. Your choice.

You were peeking over Jack’s shoulder and had seen what she said so you quickly hit her picture icon to call her back as Jack started yelling.

“BABY, WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

“DID YOU NOT READ HER TEXT? EITHER YOU CALL HER BACK OR SHE’S GOING TO BE ON OUR DOORSTEP IN LIKE A MATTER OF HOURS.”

“Okay, I’m going to see myself out now.” Urban said before walking out of the room.

A few seconds later, Maggie answered and she did not look pleased.

“Shit, I didn’t know you facetimed her.” Jack whispered in your ear as you were sitting on his lap and smiling in the camera.

“Hiiiii Mama Maggie!” You said and all she did was look at the two of you.

“I thought you said she was going to be less mad at you, she looks like she’s pissed at both of us.”

Then without warning from behind her, you saw your mom pop into the frame.

“Oh shit, they work fast. What the? Are you two at the AIRPORT?”

“You two have A LOT of explaining to do.” Was all Maggie said as she was shaking her head.

“I… Jack made me do it.”

“EXCUSE ME? YOU SAID YES SO DON’T YOU DARE PUT ALL OF THIS ON ME. IT TAKES TWO PEOPLE TO EXCHANGE VOWS.”

“Who else knew?” Was all your mom asked as you now saw that they were at their gate.

“Umm….”

“Jackman and Y/N, you better start talking and you better start now. We’re still on our way to Atlanta, but this is your chance to state your case.”

Jack started firing off names and you couldn’t help but laugh because he was doing it as if he was trying to get a shorter jail sentence.

“Clay, Dani, Urban, 2fo, Shloob, Quiiso, Ace.”

“CLAY?!” Was all Maggie exclaimed with a look of disbelief on her face.

“And how long?”

“Umm, this year would make it five years.” You quietly said.

“FIVE YEARS? THE TWO OF YOU GOT MARRIED AT NINETEEN?!”

“Uh? Does it make it any better that we were going to tell you this year and have a destination wedding?” Jack asked and both of them shook their heads no.

“We’re about to board and the two of you better be at your house when we get there.”

Without another word Maggie hung up and the two of you were sitting in silence for a few minutes before anyone said anything.

“Uh babe?” You asked while turning around to look at him and he simply sighed.

“Hmm?”

“What percentage do you think we have of surviving the conversation that is bound to happen later?”

“Negative ninety-nine.”

Jack’s phone went off again and it was Clay who had sent him a text.

Clay- I told you so. Have fun getting yelled at.

Jack- But keep in mind little brother, you knew we were married and I just told mom that you did.

Clay- I.. SO I’M IN TROUBLE TOO?

Jack- Love you!

Jack was caught off guard with you suddenly kissing him on the cheek and starting to play with his beard.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing. I just know that five years ago I made the best decision of my life. I wouldn’t want to be doing this with anyone else and I look forward to spending forever with you.”

All Jack did was smile and gave you several kisses before tightly hugging you.

“Can’t even put into words how much I love you. Almost five years in and a lifetime to go.”

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

@harlowtales

@its-jennarose

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x you #first lady of pg

146 notes · View notes